


They Were Giants

by Xazz



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: God - Freeform, M/M, Priests, Stars, god AU, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 38,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xazz/pseuds/Xazz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's supposed to be a week of festivities and worship, it sort of goes sideways when Malik finds a naked man on the side of the hill. Nor does it help matters that he can't remember his own name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fallen Star

Malik scowled towards the town. He could see the big fire in the center where they were burning an effigy of Rigel, their patron star. Every town had its own star and its own god. Sure his town knew the other stars and the other gods, but Rigel was their star and god. Tonight towns and villages and cities (who he heard had multiple stars and that just sort of messed with Malik's head since it was one town one star) were all celebrating the same holiday. It was the longest night of the year, and the dry season, and the stars were out for the longest time and brilliant in the black cloak of night. Tonight effigy's of stars and gods were being burned so they glowed like they did in the sky. It was one of the biggest celebrations of the year.

And Malik was stuck on watch duty.

He was going to slowly murder Abbas for this. He'd asked tonight but Abbas had 'miraculously' become sick that morning and hadn't gotten out of bed and had gotten out of night watch, meaning Malik, who'd asked out of it ahead of time, had had to take the man's place. It wasn't fair. His brother was visiting tonight after being in Skat for the year to study under the alchemist there as Rigel didn't have one of those and Kadar was good at numbers and alchemy the way people in Rigel weren't good at it.

He sighed and looked away from the burning star effigy. Just because he had watch during Selios, the Nights of Grounded Stars, didn't mean he couldn't do his job. He knew there were others, at the other cardinal points, who had watch too and were missing Selios too. It was no excuse for him,

Sitting back into the hill Malik did just that; kept watch. His night vision returned to him after staring at the bright effigy in town and he watched the hills. Beyond the hills was Skat and Navi, the closest towns to them in the town chain known as Capprius, named after the Capricorn constellation but looked nothing like it.

Rigel was the last town at the end of the town chain and beyond them was the Smothren Waste, a great desert set low and covered in a dense fog. They sent criminals into the fog, they never came back. The fog was supposedly full of dangerous creatures, monsters of the night that devoured everything that went into them and it was forbidden to go there since the fog was like a sea and ebbed and flowed like it was bound by the moon like a real ocean. Once a year it came dangerously close to Rigel, but everyone stayed indoors during those times and they were safe. But that was during high summer usually, and no danger now.

Malik sat upright when a spark flared in the hills. It was like someone was burning an effigy, but only for a moment before it was gone. He used his pole arm to push himself to his feet to try and see better. The spark had been behind the nearest hill though. He looked back at Rigel, the effigy had been hoisted atop of a great pole in the middle of down, flames devouring the charcoal stuffed wood and he could hear music. All was well for those participating in Selios.

Malik looked back out into the darkness. There had been something out there. He was sure of it. He didn't want to go and look and check it out, but he had to. Taking a deep breath he grabbed his lantern and uncovered it so he could see where he was walking, and hefting his weapon he left his post to go check out the spark.

He'd been climbing the hills around Rigel his entire life and easily topped the first hill next to the one he was watching from. The scrub land snapped under his sandals and scratched against his ankles but he ignored it mostly. He topped the hill and shielded the lamp, dousing himself in darkness. His night vision returned and he looked down and around. There was nothing, and the stars and moon were bright out tonight making it easier to see even as they cut the land in silver and black. But just because it wasn't here didn't mean it wasn't there.

Frowning to himself Malik took a deep breath and unshielded his lamp and continued. He checked the next hill, and the one next to it. Nothing. He thought for sure he'd imagined it. The spark hadn't been that big to be seen from so far away, not where he'd been, but he was going to check one more hill. Just one more, and when it proved he'd imagined it he was going to go back to his station.

At the top of the forth hill he climbed he was shocked to find a hole. Just... a hole, in the side of the hill, that hadn't been there before. The area around was blackened like it had been on fire, and at its center was a rather large shape, black, but glowing from the inside like an ember.

What the hell?

His first thought was that an alchemist had come by and done something. Or that it was a priest. Star priests wielded a huge amount of power and were said to be blessed by the very might of the stars themselves to do their will. Star priests didn't come this far east though, not usually, and Malik had never even seen one before. Kadar said they came to Skat once, to talk to his master, who was actually a well known alchemist. It was nearly oxymoronic, a well known alchemist all the way out at the end of Capprius, which itself was at the edge of the Vega cluster of town chains. A priest could do something like this, but there was no one.

"Hello?" he called, at the top of his voice, into the dark hills. He got no reply. He looked back into the crater, the shape was still glowing, but less so now. Cursing himself up and down for being too nosey for his own good, he slid down and into the crater, leaving his lamp on solid ground, but taking his long, bladed, pole arm with him.

The ground under his sandals was almost uncomfortably warm, like he was standing on coals. He looked up into the sky and found Rigel in his constellation effortlessly, every child in every town knew their star instantly and took only moments to find it. "Please let this not be a stupid idea," he asked Rigel and wondering if he heard.

Steeling himself he used the butt of his weapon to poke the mound. The inner glow had died down to almost nothing now. When he tapped it all he got was the sound of wood striking stone. He prodded it further, nothing. It was just rock. Satisfied whatever it was wasn't going to attack him Malik slowly reached out and down. The rock was hot like the ground and gingerly he tapped it with his hand. No reaction. He pressed his hand against it.

With a yowl Malik fell back onto the incline of the crater. The outside of the rock had been hotter than he'd anticipated and he'd burned himself. It stung and knew it would blister and he wasn't happy about it at all. Holding back any other pathetic noise to show pain he swallowed it down and got back up, now having to use his off hand to hold his weapon.

It was a rock. Just a stupid rock. Whoever had come and blasted the side of the hill apart had left this behind and now his hand was burned and he didn't care. The spark had probably been this. Stupid fucking thing.

One handed he crawled out of the crater after throwing his weapon up and with one hand he grabbed his weapon and the his lamp and started back to Rigel. He'd tell someone about this, but later, not until Selios was over. No need to start a panic until after the festival. His hand throbbed as he walked and all he wanted was to go back to the barracks and have someone wrap his hand up. He was glad when he got back to his station and then it was just a short distance to Rigel where the effigy of Rigel had burned through the wood apparatus, its charcoal guts spilled out under it in the fire pit. The music still played and no one noticed Malik when he slipped into the barracks.

–

Selios was a week long festival. The longest night, the start of Selios, they burned effigies, but the other nights were festive too. Malik had most of Selios off, having petitioned for that right in the middle of the wet season before things started to dry up and the shrubs on the hills started to become hard and wither. He did have watch some nights though.

Malik's hand was wrapped and he was on watch with Abbas. They worked together usually, and actually got along pretty well, even though Abbas was a bit annoying sometimes. Kadar had wrapped his hand and put a special powder he had brought from Skat and his master to help it heal and numbed it so he didn't agitate it. It still hurt though and like he thought had blistered.

Malik didn't have a weapon on him, he couldn't really use one, but Abbas was good enough for them both. They were watching the hill land bored. This night they both had off and it was a night the gods walked the earth. It was a quiet night of Selios and people were home with their families and left grapes and rice on window sills for the stars and spirits, offerings. The spirits left cubes of sugar in return. Sugar was rare in Capprius, though Malik heard that in other clusters or town chains it was salt, or bundles of herbs. But Capprius was rich in salt and herbs during the start of the wet season, they had no need for them.

"You see that?" Abbas suddenly.

"See what? All I see are hills," Malik grumbled.

"That," Abbas pointed. Malik still hadn't told anyone about the crater, or the spark, it had mostly left his mind honestly, but Abbas was pointing towards the hill that had been blown. Malik squinted in that direction. "That's not supposed to be there," he said.

"What? I don't see," Malik said.

"That, that bump in the ground. See, it isn't the same texture as the rest," Abbas pointed further.

Malik looked hard, "Oh, yeah, I see it now," it was like a huge nut on the ground. He looked at Abbas, "We going to check it out?"

"Mmm," Abbas said, "You go."

"Me? Why me?"

"Cause I said so."

"I outrank you," Malik said.

"You're crippled right now. If something happens I should be able to get someone, or bring the weapons," he nodded at the bladed pole arm he held like a staff standing next to Malik.

"Fine," Malik sighed and pushed himself to his feet with his good hand, his hand scraping against the dead grass and shrub on the ground. But he was up and about and jogging towards the strange lump. He looked back at one point and saw Abbas watching him, standing tall and proud with his pole arm. He shook his head as he looked forward again.

The lump was on the hill one over from them, near the apex. As he got closer he saw it wasn't a lump. It... was a person. He stared and stopped about five feet from it. He looked back at Abbas, who didn't take his eyes off Malik, in case something happened. He turned back to the person. They were curled up in the fetal position on the ground, naked as the day they were born. His hair was dark, dark, brown, almost black, that was longer than any other man in Capprius' entire town chain would wear, down around the nape of his neck, and a bit curly at the ends.

They didn't look... dangerous. So he leaned down and touched them, their skin was warm, which was strange since the dry season was cool. They didn't wake. He shook them, they didn't wake and he looked back at Abbas. He was still standing, watching. He crouched and shook the strange man harder.

Malik jumped back, startled, when the man groaned and rolled a little, onto his back and uncurling from his tight form. Malik flushed slightly, the man was naked and men just didn't wander around naked, they definitely didn't go to sleep in the middle of the hills naked. He stared and then the man's eyes open and Malik's mouth slid open. Their eyes were a brilliant, brilliant, golden, almost yellow, the pupil a burning white. As he watched though his eyes faded to goldenrod or dead shrub color, the pupil going black and contracting into a tiny prick.

Still staring the man's eyes flicked to him and he squinted up at Malik. "Who're you?" and his voice was deep and dark and rich and made Malik swallow for some reason he didn't quite know.

"Me?" he asked, "Who're you?"

The man didn't answer him., "Why's it so bright?" he grunted and pressed his hand over his eyes. His skin was paler than Malik's, which was dark, and brown the same as the rest of Rigel. The strange man was bronze, paler, and looked out of place. He wasn't from Rigel or anywhere in Capprius, as everyone in Capprius was full of dark men and women who were brown and slid into black skin.

"It's not bright," Malik said. Not more than usual at least. The sun had risen a few hours ago. "Now who're you?"

They squinted at him still, "Shut up. Your voice is annoying," and he pushed himself up to sitting, yawning as he did so, and stretching. Malik frowned at him, he had a perfect physic, and Malik was jealous as he liked to think he had a pretty good and muscular body. This guy was something else though.

"Excuse me," Malik said sarcastically. "Now who're you?"

The man looked at him with his muted golden eyes, they were dull, ugly and straw colored. Malik liked the golden-yellow eyes better. He was rubbing his face and then stopped, "...I don't know," he said and looked at Malik. "Do you know me?"

"You're not from Rigel," Malik said. "Are you from Skat? Or Navi maybe?"

The strange, naked, man cocked his head at him. "They sound familiar. But I've never heard of such places," he said. "Where am I? How did I even," and then he got to his feet, not even using his hands to push himself up, "get here? Who're you?" he asked.

"I'm Malik."

"Malik? What sort of name is Malik?"

"What's your name?" Malik demanded, "Who're you?"

"I don't know."

"Well than it's a better name than a man who doesn't have one. Or a man without any clothes," and he did his best to not give the man a look up and down.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Just outside Rigel, at the end of Capprius."

"Capricorn you mean?"

"No. Capprius. Capricorn is the constellation," Malik said. "And you're coming with me."

"Why?"

"Because you're naked in the middle of the Capprius hills. Navi's a three day walk away, and Skat four days. Where else where will you go?"

The man was silent for several long moments, "You're right. Okay, Malik, I'll go with you," he nodded.

"Good," and he started down the hill. The man followed, not complaining of the brush and rocks on his feet as he was barefoot.

"Malik, who's that?" Abbas called once he was near enough.

"No idea," Malik called back.

"Who's that?" the man asked.

"I'm Abbas," and Abbas said and lowered the pointy end of his weapon at the man, "What's your business in Rigel and where are your clothes?"

"I have no business in... Rigel?" he said it like it was strange to him, like he should be calling it something else. "And I don't know."  
"This was the lump?" Abbas asked Malik.

"Yep," he nodded.

"He's certainly a lump," Abbas' mouth was a slant on his face.

Malik laughed. "I'm going to take him into the town-

"No you aren't."

"Yes I am. He needs clothes, and maybe someone knows him," Malik said. "We have visitors from Alphard, maybe he's from there."

"Alphard?" the strange man asked, he and Abbas ignored him.

"No."

"I still outrank you," Malik said, "So stop being an idiot and put your weapon down. You're not just going to let him stay out here naked are you?"

Abbas wavered, "Okay," and his weapon head dropped to almost touching the ground.

"Good," and Malik took the strange man by the hand and dragged him past Abbas toward Rigel. There he shoved him into the barracks. There weren't many people inside, which was good. No need to inflict this guy's nudity upon others. They yelped when Malik shoved him into a room and closed the door before finding clothes for him and throwing those in too. "Dress yourself," Malik called. There was silence on the other side and after about five minutes the door opened slowly.

"You're very rude," they said, staring at Malik with his straw eyes.

"Like I care what a man without a name thinks," Malik rolled his eyes. They slid out of the room fully. Malik hadn't picked good clothes, they were all too small and his chest was big and the shirt tight across her chest, the pants were also too short and ended at his knees. "Good enough," Malik nodded. It mattered little to him.

"Now what do you plan to do with me?" they asked and yawned, drooping a bit and looking exhausted.

"To see if anyone knows you."

"Fantastic," and he yawned again, widely, like he was incredibly tired and really he did look sleepy.

"C'mon," and Malik dragged him away. The man lumbered after him, all heavy limbed.

Malik found Kadar at their parents' home. He was helping their mother form rice balls for tonight to be left out on the window sills. They looked up when Malik entered. "Malik," his mother smiled at him, her hair was pinned up into ringlets like a crown, Kadar's hair was short.

"Hi mama," he smiled faintly at her.

"Who's this?" she asked.

"Maybe you knew?" he asked his little brother, who would always be his baby brother even though he was grown and an adult. "You're from Skat, maybe?"

"Never seen him before. What's his name?"

They all looked at the strange yellow eyed man, he was in the middle of yawning. He cut it off quickly, "I don't have one," he said.

"Well that's peculiar, everyone has a name," Malik's mother said, "Even the stars have names."

"Well I don't remember mine," the man said.

"Hmm," Kadar wiped his hands and moved over to the nameless man and looked him over. "You look like no man I've said. Look at him brother, he's so pale," and Kadar held up his own dark skinned hand to the man's arm.

"I noticed," Malik nodded.

"You've no name?" Kadar asked again.

"No."

"Well, we'll give you one till someone either tells you your real one, or you remember," he said.

"Fine," he nodded.

"But what?" Kadar looked very thoughtful. "Zorya," he said.

"Really?" Malik asked.

"Yeah, why not? His eyes remind me of the morning star," Kadar smiled.

"You're one to talk Kadar," Malik said giving him a look since Kadar's eyes were nearly unreal and blue.

"Use your imagination Malik," Kadar huffed.

"I think it's a fine name," their mother said, "Zorya, what do you think?" she actually asked the strange man.

He was shaking his head, "No. No, no no no no," he said very adamantly. "It sounds so wrong."

Kadar frowned, "Okay, what about... Alshain?"

"What is it with you and star names?" Malik asked.

"It's an honor to be named after stars, why not?" Kadar shrugged at him. "You know the sayings, people named after stars do amazing stuff."

"I thought only priests were named after stars," Malik said.

"Well who's to say he isn't?"

They all turned to the nameless man who was blinking slowly, swaying a little where he stood. "What?" he asked.

"Priest?"

"A what?"

"He remembers nothing, he's useless," Malik said.

"Alshain?" Kadar asked the nameless man.

The man blinked, "Yes. I like that," the now not nameless man, Alshain, said. "I-" he yawned, "don't mean to be rude. But I need to sleep," he was leaning against the wall, clearly holding himself up with it and was about to fall asleep right there.

Malik opened his mouth to speak, it was barely midday, how could he be tired, but his mother beat him to it. "Of course dear," she said gently and wiped her hands of rice on her apron and bustled past her two sons. "You come with me, we'll find you some place to sleep," and Alshain smiled at her as she gently led him away.

"Where did you find him?" Malik asked.

"The side of the hill. Asleep, and naked," Malik said seriously.

"No."

"Yes," Malik nodded. "Now I have to get back to Abbas," Malik sighed. "I'll be back before dark though."

"Okay. Let me see your hand," he added and Malik surrendered his hand. He unbound Malik's hand a bit and checked the burn and blister. "It'll take a while, just don't use it," Kadar said.

"I won't," he promised, "How long?"

"Swelling should go down by the end of the week, the burn'll take a while to heal. How did you even do this again?"

"I fumbled my torch last night," he lied.

"Ah. Well you're fine. Back you go," and he gave Malik a nudge out the door again.

–

Malik came home as it was getting dark, the stars starting to come out. Normally he slept in the barracks with the rest of the guards, but it was Selios and he spent time with his family mostly. So he went to his family's house where he'd gone after dressing Alshain. His mother was making dinner, his father deboning fish from the local lake to be fried. The fish was traditional for this night. The fishbones were left outside the door, as the rice invited the spirits and stars, the grapes tempted them to leave sugar and blessing, and then the fish bones kept them outside of the house so they didn't cause mischief within to the things or family.

Kadar was hovering over the food, waiting, watching. "Where's the weird man?" he asked as he came in.

"Sleeping, I think," Kadar said thoughtfully and their mom slapped his hands away from the rice (the rice for them, the rice balls and grapes were already on the sill).

"Still? Has he woken up at all?"

"I'm awake now," and they turned at the dark voice from the doorway. His hair was bedraggled and stuck out at some angles. He was running his fingers through it to try and make it behave, Malik knew that wouldn't work as his hair was perpetually messy as well. His eyes also seemed to be brighter.

"Ah, there you are Alshain, just in time for dinner. It's almost ready. I don't know how they do it from whatever town you're from, but I hope you like it," Malik's mother was a nice woman to everyone.

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful ma'am," Alshain said with a slight smile. He rubbed his eyes, dislodging sleep from his eyes.

"You slept all day," Malik said, "How do you intend to sleep tonight?"

"You sleep at night?" Alshain seemed very confused by this. "Why?"

"Because it's dark out?" Kadar asked, Malik was now not the only one confused, his father was looking at them from where he was deboning the fish.

"Yes," Alshain nodded. "You people do not sleep during the day?"

"No. You do?"

"Yes... or, well I guess I do. I could barely stay awake when you woke me," he looked at Malik and it seemed the darker it got outside the more golden his eyes became. He was sure it was just a trick of the light.

"Perhaps it was last night? The first day or Selios often has many sleeping late into the day."

"Selios?"

"Yes, you know... the great yearly festival," Malik prodded.

"The Nights of the Grounded Stars," Kadar added.

Alshain seemed very confused for a moment and seemed to be trying to figure something out. "Yes," he agreed, "I know of that... yes," he nodded. "We do not call it Selios."

"Oh?" Kadar practically bounded in front of him. "What'd you call it than?"

Alshain seemed very thoughtful again, and clearly he was trying to jog his own memory, "I remember bits. I am not from here, or Navi, or Skat, or Capprius," he confessed, "I don't know where I am from. But... we called it... Agorica."

"That's a funny name. What's it mean?"

"I don't remember. Something to do with fire I think?"

"Huh, very strange," Malik said. "You've our accent and yet your words are slightly different."

"I think it is interesting," Kadar said. "I'm an alchemist in training, and very interested in things that go on beyond Capprius. If you remember anything you'll tell me, yes?"

"Sure," Altair nodded.

"Great."

"The fish are ready," Malik's father suddenly announced.

"Wonderful!" their mother cried. "The oil is ready. Start them, Malik, take the bones out to the door," and she handed him the plate full of fish bones.

"Yes mama," Malik said and nodded at Alshain to follow him. The paler man followed, curious.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"To keep the spirits and stars out when they come for the rice and grapes," Malik explained as he laid them out across the front doorway.

Alshain picked up the fish bone and then dropped it like it burned. "I see," he said, confused and moved far from the fish bones. Malik watched him curiously with a slight frown. Then Alshain became distracted by the sounds of the fish frying and drifted back into the kitchen to watch Malik's mother supervise his father.

–

That night Malik lay on the pallet, sleeping, when he heard a gentle rattling. He woke and looked around without sitting up. Kadar was sleeping in the same room as him on the floor like they had as children. Their parents slept in the one bedroom and Alshain was nowhere to be seen, He heard the soft rattling again, it sounded like pea pod bells in a way.

Slowly he got up, wiping his eyes. It was late, the moon high over head the stars brilliant and nestled in the blue blanket of the Cream Valley, the name for the greatest swath of stars in the sky. They cast silver light into the little room as Malik pushed open the door to the common area.

On the big window sill, where they'd put the rice balls and the grapes, was Alshain, his back to the wall of the sill, one knee up the other hanging inside the house. He had a rice ball in one hand, eating at it slowly, and his other hand hanging off his knee and there was a shining golden thread that glowed like the point of a star hanging off his finger like a long water droplet. Malik stared as Alshain took a bite of the rice ball and offered it to the shining thread. It coiled around the rice ball and there was that seed pod bell noise and then it let go and swung on Alshain's finger.

Alshain offered more rice ball to the thread and there was no bell noise and then it made a real bell noise and seemed to grow tiny wings from its tip. It glowed brighter and flashed before zipping away from the sill and out into the night. Alshain ate the rest of the rice ball and picked up the next one. Another thread came and landed on his arm, and then a few more, all different colors, not just gold. He offered all of them the rice ball. There were a soft rattle of the seed pods and the rice ball was engulfed by the long rain drops. The rice ball was much smaller when they slid off it like water and Alshain ate the last bit himself. They glowed and then flew away like the first one.

Malik just watched, utterly entranced as Alshain fed the glowing threads the rice balls, also eating them himself. He'd really like the rice at dinner but had stayed far away from the fish. He said he didn't like it and had sort of freaked out when Malik's father had tried to put it in his bowl. He hadn't eaten part of his meal the fish had touched either. He was a strange one. Malik liked the sounds of the threads, which he realized were probably the spirits. No stars came to visit though.

There was one rice ball left for Alshain to share and he started eating the grapes. All of them. The grapes were usually for the gods, but something made Malik stay where he was and not disturb the strange man. Alshain ate them like he'd never get to eat them again, popping five or six in his mouth at once, and chewing and swallowing quickly so he could eat more.

Then, and Malik's eyes nearly fell out of his head here, and golden figure walked by the house. They were human shaped and looked like there was fire under their skin, and he could see it shimmering white and blue. Their eyes were glowing and yellow, the pupil fire white. They stopped at the window and the spirit threads scattered and looked at Alshain for a moment. It was their star. It was Rigel!

Rigel's mouth was black when it opened, as dark as the night sky. No noise came out but a strange hissing noise. Alshain cocked his head at Rigel and silently offered Rigel the grapes guiltily. His hands didn't shake, which was amazing since Malik was trembling and wanted to hide. Rigel made the hissing noise again at Alshain and then suddenly his glowing yellow eyes twisted to Malik and Malik became totally rigid. The hissing increased in volume and violence and Alshain turned around and looked at where Rigel was, he seemed very calm and Malik was sure it was a trick of Rigel's glow, but Alshain's eyes seemed to glow yellow, the pupils white.

He wasn't sure though because that was when he lost consciousness.

–

Malik woke to sun on his face on his pallet. His sheets were twisted all up around his legs like he'd had a nightmare or some strange dream. He blinked his eyes open, Kadar was gone, his pallet rolled up and put against the wall, the blanket folded up, the thin pillow resting on top of it all. After a moment Malik smelled breakfast and made himself wake.

He sat up in bed and tried to remember his strange dream. Alshain eating rice balls in the moonlight came to mind, and the long glowing threads. That was really all he could remember. He shook his head, it didn't matter. It was just a dream.

He got up, folded his blanket, and put an identical pile against the wall next to Kadar's. As he got up he noticed he wasn't alone though. The third pallet was laid out and when he checked he saw Alshain was still sleeping, his face to the wall. Malik left him there and went to find breakfast.

There was a heap of sugar on the sill outside when he went out, all the rice balls and grapes gone.

–

The third night of Selios was a night of gift giving. Malik had the entire day off and he and Kadar went down to the public garden and picked tea leaves. Alshain slept and didn't wake when Kadar tried to wake him and they didn't talk of the strange man. The day was cool and Malik picked the newest leaves for his father who had a delicate stomach, as he'd woken up that morning complaining of an upset stomach from the rich fish the night before.

Their mother steeped the tea, a treat, with lunch and Malik went back to the barracks to get the gifts for his parents and brother. He saw some of his friends and it ended up taking a few hours. He talked with Abbas about the strange man and Abbas insisted on Malik presenting him before the mayor. Malik just rolled his eyes at him and said he would once Selios was over. It was the festive week and they didn't need to get anyone in a fit for a strange man with a strange sleep schedule. Abbas moaned about it, insisted and complaining but Malik just ignored him. Sometimes it was just better to do so since he could complain about anything.

He gathered his gifts together and made sure they were wrapped up properly, before returning home. Tomorrow he had work, but tonight and the night before were proper graveyard shifts with only the barest number of men out. Even then those on watch had to stay in the towers at the four corners of Rigel, behind fish bones, as spirits and stars walked the second night and stars, for all that they were their gods and did help them, were not the... most friendly things. They'd most likely kill you if you weren't safe inside.

Malik remembered his strange dream. The thing he'd thought was Rigel, with the black mouth and the glowing eyes. And Alshain's glowing eyes too. Should he get something for Alshain? He didn't know the man though, and didn't know what he'd like. He decided at least to get him a bigger set of clothes and found some clean ones from the main laundry in the barracks.

The smell of cooking food was intense when he returned to his parents' house. Kadar was talking with Alshain and Malik put his four gifts on the table with the rest before joining his brother and the strange, pale man.

Alshain looked tired, and like he was about to fall asleep. The sun was still out, but fading quickly. "Your gods don't leave sugar?" Kadar was asking.

"No," he shook his head. "Salt. We have sugar. It comes in plants, you burn the fields at the end of the growing season and then they go in with long cane knives and cut the sugar cane straight from the ground. It's a very interesting process."

"So you remember more?" Malik asked.

"Some things, yes," he nodded and smiled at him sleepily.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Shortly ago," Alshain yawned.

"But salt," Kadar said.

"Yes, the spirits leave salt, because there is little to be had."

"We have a salt mine a few hours away," Kadar said thoughtfully. "So no salt," Alshain nodded again. "The most of 'sugar' we have is honey, and even then that doesn't really sweeten like sugar."

"There was a lot this morning," Malik's father joined them. "Usually its just a small handful, but it was nearly a pound. I've never seen so much sugar," he sounded impressed.

"You could sell some," Kadar said.

"Yes," their father agreed. "But I don't think we will. Your mother wants to bake with it."

"Mmm, yum!" Kadar declared. "At least the spirits were happy with our offering," he said. And that reminded Malik of his dream. He told his brother and father and they asked him about it since dreams involving stars didn't happen often. Usually stars didn't visit people in their dreams, for humans were beneath them. Alshain said nothing about it even though he'd been in Malik's dream, which really had been the strange part, and when Malik looked he saw the bronzed man was dozing now that the conversation wasn't directed at him.

"Alshain," his brother spoke up. "Malik, wake him," he ordered, as he was the one sitting next to the man. Malik shook him. Alshain blinked awake sleepily. "You sleep too much," Kadar said, "it's bad for you."

"It's light out," Alshain grunted, "I don't sleep at night," but he did sit up a bit.

"Why? What sort of people don't sleep at night?"

"The kind that sleep during the day," Alshain yawned. "Other people are awake during the day. We come out at night. I'm tired," and he unfolded from the couch. "Wake me when it's breakfast-

"Dinner," Kadar said.

"Breakfast," Alshain said and left the room.

"What's with him?" Malik asked.

"Not a clue. Who knew there were people who slept during the day. Not in any town chain in Vega that's for sure," he nodded.

"Well there are others," their father reminded them both, "Vega is not the only. There is Ursa, and Picus, and Leo. And then bigger ones, Draco, Hydra, they have some strange people in them too."

"Have you ever met anyone from Draco or Hydra?" Kadar asked.

"No, but from further away, another kingdom. He had milk white skin, blue eyes and yellow hair. He came during the height of the wet season and didn't listen when we told him about the fog. He was caught out in it and we didn't see him again after that," he said.

"Wow. Before that, what was he like?"

"Not like Alshain at all. He had different names for the stars and spoke with the funniest accent. But he slept at night at least.

"Foreigners are strange," Kadar agreed. Malik said nothing to agree or not. "Tell me your dream again Malik," he added. Malik lips twisted slightly as he humored the junior alchemist.

—

Alshain didn't wake until after dinner was over. They'd eaten early that day, the sun still out. But as the stars came out Alshain rolled out of bed, his hair a mess and seemed longer, curly and messy from sleeping, as it was flattened on one side. Malik's mother made him a plate of cold food and he sat on the floor eating quietly, his plate mostly piled with rice actually, as they sat around and exchanged gifts.

For Kadar Malik had gotten a book, his mother a new sharp knife, and his father a jar of white powder that made ceramics glistening white. Kadar got him a book as well, an empty one to write in, and a new pen and an ink well. Malik liked them a lot. His father got him another book, this one full of maps. Star maps and maps of the world, the clusters and the town chains in the kingdom and beyond. His mother gave him a new, tailored, set of clothes. Nice clothes, to wear the last few days of Selios.

They all opened their gifts and Malik put his aside to take to the barracks tomorrow. There was one left though. "Who's is this?" his mother asked and Malik nearly flushed at the lumpy gift.

"Uh... Alshain's," he confessed. Alshain, who'd gone back for more rice and currently was scooping some into his mouth, looked up and at Malik, his cheek bulging outward a little. Malik desperately wanted to try and smooth his hair down because it was so messed from sleep and he looked like a child who needed to be taken care of.

"Me?"

"Him?" Kadar asked.

"Yeah, I mean... He has no one," Malik didn't know why he felt he had to really explain. He was a grown ass man, he could gift to anyone.

"That's very nice Malik," his mother said and handed the gift to Alshain. He took it like it was made of glass and looked at Malik with his golden eyes. For some reason. He flushed.

"Thank you," Alshain said and the opened it. It was just clothes but to a man like Alshain who remembered nothing of himself this was his first gift he'd ever received. He looked a bit like Malik had given him gold. He held up the shirt and then the pants. "Thank you," Alshain said again, clearly meaning every word, and smiled at Malik. It was the first time he'd ever seen Alshain smile. He looked fantastic and handsome and young and slightly goofy with his messy hair. Alshain said something but Malik didn't hear and then he was getting to his feet, carrying his new clothes into the other room. Malik's eyes followed him without meaning to and his mother said something to him.

"Yeah," he said, not quite knowing what he was even agreeing to.

—

Day four of Selios wasn't really special. It was the middle of the festivities and was more a resting day. That was fine with Malik. He was on watch that night though. His watch was long and it was over when the moon was at its apex. Another man came to relieve him out in the hills and he stopped at his room in the barracks before going back to his parents' house. The fifth day was about breakfast before the sun rose and then fasting all day until the moon rose that night. He wanted to be there for that.

When he got home he saw Alshain. He was awake but laying on the ground on his stomach. He told him it was a trick of the light that Alshain's eyes were glowing. Or at least he thought that until Alshain waved his hand and the little lamp next to him where he lay next to the dying fire sprung to life without him touching anything.

Malik's feet were nailed to the ground as Alshain waved his hand a little and made the flame dance like it truly was alive. Then he finally found his voice. "You're a priest," he blurted out.

Alshain started and the lamp gutted out with a soft wump. His eyes, which seemed to glow, were just gold when he turned and stared at Malik. He was wearing the clothes Malik had given him last night and they fit him well, where before they'd been nearly obscene tight, now they hugged his body in the right places and was currently riding up his back where he was on his stomach, held up by his elbows. "Oh, Malik," he said, and seemed relieved to see him.

"You're a priest," Malik said.

"A what?"

"A priest you idiot. Favored by stars with great power."

"Oh... No I'm not," Alshain said.

"Yes you are."

"That wasn't a great display of power," Alshain insisted. "It was just... something," he shrugged.

"Any display is a big display when normal men have none," Malik said.

"Oh, I see," he said with a frown. He looked back at the lamp. "But I'm not a priest," he said.

Malik went over to him, he was now no longer tired, "Than what're you? Who're you?" he asked as he sat down next to him.

"I don't know..." Alshain sighed miserably and put his head on his arms.

"You'll figure it out," Malik said and after a moment of hesitation reached out and ran his fingers through the curly mess of Alshain's hair. Alshain didn't tell him to stop and they stayed like that. Malik gently petting his hair down, keeping his still burned hand in his lap.

—

Malik was starving when Alshain got up. It was dark and they were waiting for the moon to rise. His mother was cooking but it wouldn't be ready until after the moon was up. Alshain was a bit confused by their fasting but asked for no food.

Then the moon rose and they ate. Alshain seemed especially energetic tonight, and the stars outside absolutely brilliant. He couldn't sit still and eventually Malik dragged him outside. Alshain walked to a dark spot, away from lamps, and stretched out his arms in the light of the stars and the moon which was nearly full.

Malik couldn't help the thought that Alshain looked good. In the moonlight especially his paler skin looked positively silver, like he was some statue made of it. He basked in it and Malik made no comment.

"They look different from here," Alshain said, staring upwards.

"What do?"

"The stars. They look different here than where I'm from," he said, hands dropping by his sides.

"They do?" Malik asked.

"Yes. There are more of them there too," and Malik went to stand next to Alshain and looked up at the any with him. "Your brother gave me the name of a star. Which star?" he asked.

"Mmmm," Malik searched the sky for the great eagle. It was not the usual constellation he searched for so it took him a little time. "That," he said, pointing, "that's the eagle."

"I see no eagle. What is an eagle?"

Malik chuckled, "It's a bird. A creature with wings. You see? There are its wings in flight, and its tail feathers, and his head," Malik traced the shape in the sky.

"Like this?" and Alshain did the same, but as he did it was like a layer had been peeled back and a massive collection of stars filled in the places between the constellation, giving the eagle full wings and a sharp beak.

"Yes," Malik breathed, wondering if he was really seeing this or if he was dreaming again. Then the normal field of stars returned like it had never been. Malik frowned suddenly.

"What?" Alshain asked.

"A star is missing," Malik said.

"What? Which one? How do you know?"

"Because, it's one of the biggest stars of the eagle. There is one missing where the neck joins the body."

"What's it called?"

"Altair; the flying one," and Alshain froze. "Alshain?" he asked.

"Say it again," he said softly.

"What?"

"The name of the missing star."

"Altair. Alshain is one of the other eagle stars."

"That's me," he said.

"What?"

"Altair. That's my name!" and like a six year old he jumped gleefully. "I'm Altair," he said again, grinning amazingly wide and Malik was tongue tied. He was shamefully good looking. "I'm Altair," he breathed and looked up at the sky again. He reached out with both hands, still smiling and Malik was torn between watching the sky, and watching him. "I know who I am now," he said softly, somberly.

"You do?" Malik asked.

Altair turned to him, "I'm Altair."

"Yes, I got that. Your real name is Altair."

"No. I  _am_  Altair. I'm not up there, because I'm down here," he said softly and Malik looked at him a long time. Altair was not looking at him, but the blank spot in the sky.

"You're a star," Malik said in a whisper.

Altair looked at him now, "Yes," and his pupils were white, his eyes glowing brilliant and gold.

It all made sense now. Why he slept during the day. Why the fish bones had seemed to burn him, and he'd been so against eating it, his obsession with rice. The stars were only out at night. Fish bones kept out spirits and gods. Rice was the favorite food of both gods and spirits. And he remembered him eating the grapes. Shoving them in his mouth rapidly. He didn't know why grapes, but Altair liked them... Rigel had wanted them.

Rigel.

"I saw you the second night of Selios," Malik said. "And Rigel." Altair nodded, but he was looking up again. Then Malik realized what he was  _really_  looking at. This was no man. This was a god. A god in human clothes and wore no shoes, and was a thing that gave and favored mortals like them. It was power and fury and Malik remembered Rigel, all fire and heat and his big black mouth.

Malik dropped to his knees and then down into a full bow, his forehead touching the ground. Partly because his legs couldn't support him and mostly because Altair was a  _god_.

Most of the stories of their gods were cautionary tales about people who didn't show them proper respect and how they wiped out entire towns or people or armies with a wave of their hands. They were powerful, deadly, and violent, most of their rituals to them involving fire or blood. The last day of Selios all men were made to bleed from their thighs. Women were exempt because they bled monthly for the gods, because they could weather the pain and burden of being bled all year; men could not. When you wanted to get a star's attention you burned something, or bled it dry. They noticed blood and death, but also vast gifts of food and flowers. When one spoke of stars it was with respect, when you spoke to them to ask them of things of help, it was with caution and with great reverence.

And there was one  _right in front of Malik._  It was no surprise he was on the ground prostrate.

Altair looked down at him, Malik could feel it, even though he couldn't see it, "Get up," he said and Malik got to his feet, though had his head down. A hand grabbed his chin and made him look up. His eyes were such brilliant yellow and his pupil white like the inside of a forge. "Don't do that. Look at me."

Malik swallowed but did as he was told. He was a soldier, and plenty brave, but this was pretty much totally beyond him. It was outside of his depth. But he did look at him, like he was told, instead of over his shoulder. "Give me your hand," and Altair let go of his chin and took Malik's burned hand.

Malik winced when Altair unwrapped his hand. "I did this," Altair said softly, looking at the blister that was Malik's palm. He seemed amused for a second and then placed his hands on Malik's. He yelped in pain, since it still hurt. "Forgive me," Altair said softly and then his hands glowed, Malik's hand glowed too and then Altair took his hand away. Malik's hand was perfectly healed, there weren't any scars or blisters at all. He'd never heard of gods or priests doing any sort of healing, even alchemist were warriors. There was no such thing as healing arts for priests, or alchemists. But here it was. Malik was, rightfully, in awe.

"Wow," Malik breathed and took his hand back and looked at it from all angles. His hand wasn't even red. There was no sign of the burn from- from... "That was you," Malik stared at him. "You made that crater in the hill."

"Yes," he nodded.

"What were... are you doing?" Because everyone knew that stars only came down for important things. Right? He couldn't even think of what that would be.

"Do you know what a priest really is?" Altair asked him.

Really were? They weren't what they thought? He stared at Altair in confusion. "What?" he asked.

Altair grinned at him. The star let go of him, "Figure it out," and he stepped back. All at once it was like he was on fire, his skin like it was burning, flames rippling from under his skin, eyes glowing. Malik could feel a faint heat coming off him and then, in a bright flash, one that made Malik close and cover his eyes, he was gone.

Once the spots had cleared from Malik's eyes he looked around. There was a slight singe mark on the ground. Then his head turn upwards.

The eagle was whole again.

—

Day six of Selios was a large communal festival and feast. Everyone prepared for it and the women cooked all day. Malik had watch during the day with Abbas.

Abbas noticed his newly healed hand. He asked, but Malik didn't answer, no matter how or many times Abbas asked. Malik's thoughts were elsewhere. Why had Altair come to earth? What did he mean by that question? What were priests?

He knew they were envoys for the stars, powerful and chosen to lead and do amazing things. They weren't born, they were forged like swords and a priest never appeared or was known until they were at least of age.

Priests were both genders and girls weren't priestesses, also priests. They were furious fighters, naturals apparently and it was said that when priests went to war for the gain of their towns or chains or kingdoms, armies hesitated, or stopped attacking all together. It was said fifty alchemists of various disciplines was comparable to just one priest.

It wasn't like they were common though. Not all stars had priests, and very few stars had more than one if they had one at all. Malik had heard some stars never had priests, at least not here.

... Like Altair.

There were no priests for the eagle that Malik knew. Altair, Alshain, Aquila, Al Thalimain: the main stars of the Eagle, had no priests. At least none that Malik knew. There were no towns named for the stars of the Eagle in Capprius or even Vega, or other chain clusters. If there was a town named after Altair it wasn't anywhere within their kingdom. Maybe neighboring ones. But then Altair had looked like he'd come from far away with his paler skin, for stars were said to look like the people in the towns they were named after. Or so it was said, he want sure, no one was really sure, as other than during Selios they didn't normally leave the sky.

When Malik got home, as the festivities were getting ready- the long tables brought out to the town square and women started bringing out platters and bowls and all sorts of things to eat. Malik could smell whole pigs being roasted, they'd been started earlier, but now the smells were starting to get really intense- Malik pulled out his new book, the one  _full_  of maps. He poured over Vega. No town with the right name. He looked at the other clusters but even in the largest, Draco and Hydra, he saw no town. That meant there were none in this kingdom. He went to a new one, the one they shared a border and a half with and that also was bumped up against the great Smothren Wastes. He devoured the maps, looking for Altair. Even another of the stars of the eagle. He checked every kingdom on his map.

There were no eagle towns.

Malik frowned as he sat there, trying to figure out what that even  _meant_. All stars had towns. Some kingdoms had the same town, or even two towns in the same kingdom would share a name- though this wasn't common. He wanted to know though. Where was Altair?

He moved from the maps of the earth to the maps of the sky. The eagle was labeled, right above Sagittarius and Capricious, wings spread out full and wide. He put his finger on Altair with a frown. There he was, and he'd been missing from the sky for days. Had anyone noticed? Malik hadn't until he'd had to look for the eagle. But the eagle wasn't a constellation Malik was very familiar with it. What about Altair's people? Surely they had noticed.

But why was he here? Why did he fall out of the sky? He had to have a purpose here.

Malik's head jerked up the. His brother came out of the back room. "Kadar," he said, startling his brother. His brother looked at him. "What're priests for?"

"What?" none of them had asked about Alshain. Malik had tried mentioning him, but none of them remembered. Only Malik did it seemed.

"Priests, what are the reason for them?"

Kadar seemed confused. "What?" he asked again.

"Answer the question alchemist," Malik said sternly.

Kadar wandered over to him and sat down next to him. "To make the will of the gods known," Kadar said.

"Is that all?" Malik asked.

Kadar frowned, "Well," he said at length, "there is an old story. Very old story, when our kingdom was still divided and we did not have the stars as our gods." That was an  _old_  story indeed since the stars had been their gods for nearly a thousand years.

"Well, what was it?"

"Mmmm, its been a time since I saw the book this was in, give me a moment," Kadar was deep in thought for several moments. Then he said, "Apparently our gods can get very lonely. Their worshipers offer some respite from the darkness, but not enough. So they come to earth, seeking companionship and come to earth as nothing. They want people with great fighting skill and big hearts who will help them, as they have nothing. Once they find that person it's said they give them two things, their priestly powers, and their affections. But, that's just a story," Kadar shrugged.

"... affections?" he asked, staring.

"Yeah. You know, like love. The stories don't say quite how or why, but apparently it happens fairly quick. A star knows their new priest within a few days or so, or if they have to find someone else."

"Oh," Malik said in a tiny tone. What had Altair said? Did Malik know what a priest really was? A warrior. Favored by the star. And now seemingly... their lovers? Malik turned a brilliant crimson at the thought.

"Malik?" Kadar asked.

"Thanks," and then Malik lurched to his feet with his book and was out the door. He had a lot of things on his mind he really didn't want to think about.

—

Today was the last day of Selios. The week long festival in praise of their gods drew to a close tonight. Tonight was a night for young people, a renewal and for lovers, old an new. Many couples wed on this day, or professed their love.

Malik hated the last day because he was always alone on this day. In Rigel soldiers weren't looked very well upon. They were a small town and rich in clay and beautiful pottery. Malik's father was a potter, but it wasn't for Malik, or Kadar. Kadar was too smart for it, and Malik wasn't artistic in the slightest. He was good with his pole arm, and his sword. Neither skill was desirable by the women of Rigel so even though he was handsome, no one seemed to want him.

Usually he just worked the last day of Selios. This year was no different. He was out in the hills, though unlike the first night he felt no annoyance in not being able to participate. He sat on the hill side, pole arm within easy reach. Be didn't fear an attack. Selios was sacred and any attacks on towns usually ended up in the attackers being dead, as stars did  _not_ appreciate festivities in their honor being disrupted, or their people killed.

He heard a great outcry from Rigel. It sounded happy and joyful. Malik tried not to be too spiteful. With a sigh he laid back and stared up at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly, the moon a sliver from being full. His eyes found Rigel in the sky, then his eyes tracked a different direction, to a part of the sky be didn't normal look. There he was the eagle and his eyes widened when he saw Altair wink out. He sat up with a jolt when a white pillar of flame appeared on the opposite hill. It was lit for only two seconds at most before gutting out.

Malik waited, utterly still as he eyes adjusted back to dark vision. At first he saw nothing but then he could make the humanoid shape out of the darkness. Altair was walking up the hill towards him, dressed like a king. Draped in blues and reds and seemingly covered in beads and gold that hung from his wrists and and neck and head like he was bleeding it. A strange hat was on his head, wrapped up like a towel, jewel tones itself and covered in intricate golden patterns and huge blue jewel at the center. Malik had never seen  _any_  dress like it but he could tell that this was the garb of the obscenely wealthy.

Malik stared open mouthed, as the star came to stand before him. They leaned down, the wrapped hat perched perfectly on his head, concealing his dark, dark, curls, and with a smirk tapped Malik's mouth closed. "Hello Malik," he said, his voice still rich and deep and wonderful, yet now also terrifying.

Malik tore his eyes away and looked down, "Your holiness," because what else did you say t _o a god?_  Let alone one who might want to take you as their lover

"No. Look at me," Altair said, hand still on Malik's face, now slid up along his jaw. Malik looked up cautiously. "You know what a priest is?" he asked.

"... I think so," he said slowly. Altair smiled, pleased.

"Most people don't anymore."

"My brother's an alchemist."

"Ah. The fake priests," Altair nodded. "They want to be ones, but they always fall so short. They shoot for the stars, and always crash back to earth," and he stroked Malik's face, his hand was amazingly warm like a small fire burned within him. "I have not had a priest in a long time," he said as if to himself.

"Why me?" Malik asked.

"Because you helped me. Because you aren't afraid to spill blood. Because your heart is big. Because you're clever and driven."

"You don't know that really. You barely know me," Malik said.

Altair smiled, "I am a star and can see the whole of the world from the sky. We watch people who could make good priests, who could handle it," Altair said softly, "there is very little I don't know about you Malik," and he shivered a little at the thought that Altair could have been watching him from the sky all this time.

"So did you come for me?" he asked.

"This land is for other stars. I meant to land elsewhere, near my own town, but I missed," he shrugged. "I made good of a poor situation," his other hand came up so he held Malik's face in both hands. "I don't know how Rigel didn't notice you," he said thoughtfully. "You're what he likes too," and Malik flushed. "But... it is a choice," Altair continued.

"A choice?"

"You can chose to be a priest, or not."

"If I say not?" he swallowed.

"Then you will forget me, just as everyone in this little town has," he waved his hand towards Rigel where the last day of Selios was happening. "And I will find someone else," the way he said it made Malik feel very sad, and he got the impression that people to be priests came along nearly as rarely as they heard of them. Many stars did not have priests because the people for it were few in number to begin with. He imagined Altair was amazingly lonely.

He would also be insane to say no.

"What does it entail? To be a priest?" Malik asked.

With a pleased look Altair straddled his lap, his many golden ornaments and beads rattling softly as he did. "It means you are mine," Altair said. "You must obey me, and defy me and defend me and be loyal to me. Normally we do not concern ourselves with the goings on of the world, but sometimes we take someone and make them our envoy, our will, our priest, and become more involved. For this you get power most people can't comprehend, a fraction of mine, but more than any alchemist could hope to have. And, you get me," that sounded like a pretty good deal honestly.

"And that means?"

Altair placed his hand over Malik's heart, "Emotionally," and then his hand reached down and down and slid between them and grabbed Malik's crotch, "and physically." Malik's face flamed red even as Altair let him go. He wanted to ask how that worked between men, but a larger part was a bit terrified to figure it out. "I am to be your only, until you die," oh, "if I'm not..." his face became stormy, "no one will like it." Malik nodded. "What is your choice?"

"Is there anything else I need to know?"

Altair thought a moment, "You must come home with me," he said.

"To your town?" Altair nodded, "Where is it? I looked, but I couldn't find it on maps."

Altair pointed towards the Smothren Wastes, "Beyond the fog, where you people do not go."

"So if I said yes I could never come home?"

"You'd be a priest. You could go wherever you wanted, even the fog."

"You said Rigel would have liked me too-

"He also hates you all. You potters and farmers. No real fighters and blood spillers or people with conviction. He doesn't pay attention, he didn't notice you. I did," and he smoothed one of his hands across Malik's bearded face. "Make your choice," he said again.

Malik thought it over a few moments. But really, there was nothing here for him. Rigel was a peaceful town, as was most of Capprius. There were only a bare amount of guards. Malik's skill in weapons always set him apart. He didn't have the hands to be a potter, and anything he tried to grow died. He was a warrior in a place warriors weren't really welcome and he was stunted. If he went with Altair he'd never feel like that again. He didn't feel affection for the man now, but he was being put on the spot. He knew that, given time, he could love them. There was no reason to say no.

"What do I have to do?" Malik asked.

Altair smiled his gorgeous, wide, smile. He said nothing at first and instead put his ringed fingers into his mouth and seemed to pull on something. Then he pulled out what looked like a tooth, but it wasn't a tooth, it was like a glowing grain of rice. "Swallow this," Altair said.

He held it out to Malik, who took the brilliant, glowing, grain, and Malik popped it into his mouth. He blinked in shock from the sudden freezing cold that swelled from his throat and down to his belly from the piece of rice to fill his entire body. It was so cold and it hurt and he could feel his insides starting to freeze over it seemed. All in the span of about three seconds. Then Altair was kissing him, deeply, and seemed to breathe warmth back into his body. He tasted clean and hot and strangely like grapes. Malik wrapped his arms around the star's neck, kissing him back.

When they finally stopped Malik was warm and he was laying back against the hill, Altair laying mostly on top of him. "What was that?" Malik asked, and could still feel the cold in his chest, though not painfully, more like how mint tastes in the mouth, slightly tingly.

"The power of the priest," Altair said softly, still close, noses almost touching. "The power is cold, and its why we burn so hot and bright, to counteract it, and why we can only give you such a small part, or you'd freeze. Priests need us to stay warm, as they can't on their own. We don't take betrayal well and have no problem letting you be killed by the very power we gave you if you are disloyal."

"Does that happen?"

"To some stars who want an avatar but not a companion it can happen. You will live a long time and we can be neglectful at times. Some priests stray."

"I won't," Malik promised. Altair kissed him again and the tingling sensation of cold left and all that remained was a warmth in his chest like it was filled with a small sun.

"We're leaving now," Altair said brushing their noses.

"Now?" Malik asked, startled.

"Yes. It will take several hours to get through the fog, and it must be before sunrise when I have to go to sleep," Altair said.

"I'm on watch," Malik said and Altair clearly didn't care. No, of course not. "I need to say goodbye to my family, and I have some things I want."

Altair huffed and sat up on him, "You mortals and your  _things_  he said."

"Says the man with more jewelry on them than I've ever seen in my life," Malik said and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "And didn't you say I was supposed to defy you?" he rose his brows at Altair.

The god smirked, "Yes," he agreed and kissed him gently again. "Fine. Get your things. Meet me at the edge of the Wastes. Call my name when you get there," and then he got up from Malik, "I'll come," and then he was gone in a bright flash. Malik's eyes weren't disturbed by the brightness this time though.

Once Altair was gone Malik slowly got to his feet. He felt energetic and surprisingly light. What he'd just done was now sinking in. When the star was before him it was easy to be enthralled and... seduced honestly. He'd just been seduced, by a god. It sort of made his head spin. But he'd made his choice and he couldn't back out, to do so was death, it was a lot less terrifying than he thought such an idea should be.

He gathered up his pole arm and left his post. Nothing would disturb Rigel, he knew. He went back to the barracks and packed a small bag. His book of maps, the new journal and pen and ink, the clothes his mother had made him, a few odds and ends and another change of clothes. He left it on his bed and went to his parents' home, as while he'd been talking with Altair the main festivities had ended. Now everyone had gone home. He poked his head in and rolled his eyes. Kadar wasn't home and could hear his parents having sex. Wouldn't be the first time and he wasn't even disturbed by it, children heard it often, especially if they had siblings. But they were busy and he wouldn't disturb them and Kadar had, no doubt, found the company of some beautiful girl as all the girls in Rigel loved Kadar's blue eyes and the fact that he was an alchemist.

So instead he left a note. 'I'm going on a journey. I don't know when I'll be back and will come home when I can. Love, Malik,' and put it in his mother's cooking pot she'd use in the morning for breakfast and would see it.

Malik got his things from the barracks, making sure to bring his sword, but left his pole arm. He was better with the sword. He always felt he should be since his family name was 'sword'. He left Rigel and walked out to the great Smothren Wastes where the dense fog moved gently in the barely there wind. It rocked back and forth like waves on a lake and Malik looked at it with more than a little trepidation. All his life he'd been told to stay  _away_  from this place, be wary of the fog, and now he was about to walk into it.

He looked up, Altair was in his place as the neck of the eagle. "Altair," he called. A few seconds passed, nothing happened. "Altair, I'm here, get your ass down here!" he said irritably and an instant later the star winked out.

Light blossomed from within the fog and then it died. A huge wind kicked up and the fog was suddenly pushed away. Malik's night vision was perfect now and he saw the fog form a corridor. Standing in it was Altair. He no longer wore the red and blue clothes that dripped gold, but now wore a much simpler garb. His pants were wide and he wore no shirt, only a red vest with intricate beading on it and a strange pair of boots. "There you are. Like making me wait," Malik said.

Altair's smile was a cheshire smirk of amusement, "But I won't leave you," he said and held out his hand. When Malik took it the fog closed around them and the stars overhead vanished.

-fin-


	2. Lights You Can't See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written on commission for rampakslue over on tumblr. That's the only reason there's an update so please, do not ask for updates unless you wanna commission some more. If you do I'd be happy to point you in that direction.

In the distance, he could see where the stars ended. Above and around was the Down Blanket, the stars that covered all of Eagle, and then to the southeast, there was just darkness. Looking in that part of the sky made Malik unsettled. He was making breakfast as the sun was setting, warming up the rabbit he’d caught the night before on the coals. He sat by the banked fire letting it wash out his vision. He felt very tired, but warm. It was good to be warm. He supposed he had every right to be tired. He was a hundred and fifty-two yeard old. Malik didn’t know why he bothered to keep track anymore. It didn’t matter. Not like anyone could kill him. Well, Altair could, through negligence.

The coals popped and Malik’s head tilted a little when he heard another pop, different, distant. He looked straight up at the Eagle that hovered in the center of the sky. Eight stars. Used to be nine. Used to be. He counted them but saw only seven. Not the seven he was expecting. Altair was still up there despite him being the only one with any real reason to leave. No. The one who’d left was Bezek of the eastern sky. Now, why would Bezek be gone?

He realized he really hadn’t wanted the answer to that when a column of flame appeared in the darkness a hundred feet in front of him. It scorched the ground and when the light dimmed he saw Bezek. Bezek was a fat god, like his western lands which had the best farmland in all of Eagle. He only wore a kilt and had braided beads of gold and jade into a great full beard. More beads of gold hung from the end of his kilt like little bells. Malik didn’t move when Bezek appeared.

“Priest Malik,” Bezek called in greeting, walking towards him slowly. “I come in good faith.”

“That’s what Aquilae said too,” Malik said when he thought Bezek had gotten close enough and Bezek stopped in his tracks. He waved his hand over the coals of his fire and they snuffed out, plunging them into darkness lit only by the stars. Malik’s eyes adjusted quickly and he could see just fine in perfect darkness. Bezek’s golden eyes were wary. Malik did not get up. If Bezek was here to kill him Malik could only defend himself so much without Altair. Even priests were nothing against an actual star. “What do you want, Bezek?” he asked.

Bezek swallowed. “I mean you no threat, priest. I just came to deliver… news to you.”

“Why do you not tell it to Altair?”

“You think Altair will actually take time to listen to me? My. You think more well of him than I thought.”

“He is _my star_ ,” Malik growled.

Bezek did not continue the line of talk. “I’m sure you notice that Tarazed is absent now and then.” Malik nodded. He always took note of how many stars were part of the Eagle. For the most part it didn’t matter but he did because that was what he should do. He was Altair’s priest, the only one in Eagle. He couldn’t just ignore the comings and goings of gods when they decided to leave their constellation. “My peoples have been hearing things. From the south.” That did not reassure Malik at all. “They say that Altair’s priest has been there.”

“I go everywhere in Eagle,” Malik said. Helping people, fixing things, make sure the place was safe. The last generation alive for the Eagle War was just dying now. They didn’t run away when they saw him anymore.

“You don’t go to the southeast, do you?”

“Just get out with it Bezek,” he said. “If you want to be helpful then tell me. I haven’t the patience.”

Bezek took several steps closer and stepped onto the dark but still hot coals of Malik’s fire without noticing. “I may not be Altair, priest, but you will speak to a Cardinal Star with respect.” Malik licked his lips nervously and didn’t say anything. Better just to be quiet. Bezek wasn’t wrong either and Malik had been very rude. He was just tired. So tired. “I have reason to believe Tarazed has his own priest.”

That got Malik’s attention. “What? That’s statistically unlikely,” Malik said slowly. The reason Malik was the only priest in Eagle was because the stars here were so quarrelsome. When someone who could potentially become a priest made themselves known they would fight and bicker over them, usually killing the potential priest in the process. It was why there were many paladins in Eagle but very few actual priests. Altair had had to go outside of Eagle to find him without the others knowing. “Altair would have known them the moment they showed themselves.”

“It’s only a rumor,” Bezek said. “I cannot go and see, I must stay in the west. This is only what I hear and Deneb speaks softly of it. He says there are more rivers there now, even though there is no more rain than usual. Something is melting the ice off the mountains in Tarazed’s domain and making the rivers run heavier than usual. It’s washing out what little farming there is there.”

“And are the rivers running more in your land, Bezek?” Malik asked.

“No.”

Malik squeezed his eyes shut. Why did it have to be in the southeast? Why did this happen to him? Of course, it could be nothing. It could just be warmer in the south this year. The fog to the south sometimes did build up into firestorms from the volcanic vents located even further south. He hoped it was nothing. He opened his eyes. “I see,” he said gravely. “I will look into it. But why tell me, Bezek? I know you don’t like me.”

“The last Eagle War was too much, Malik,” Bezek said. “There are still bodies in the rivers in the west,” Malik looked down, ashamed. “I don’t know what overcame him, to see what we had done as such a slight. I do not wish to experience it again for a long while.”

“Me too, Bezek. I will look into this rumor. I don’t want another War either.”

“Good night, Malik.” Bezek’s great body was consumed by a searing fire that even Malik felt as far too warm for comfort. Then he was gone.

Malik looked down at his fire and groaned as he picked up what was left of his rabbit. It was just char. “Thanks for nothing, Bezek,” he grumbled. He went into his rations for something to eat and collected his things. He pulled on his armor that twinkled like bells when he walked, the talismans glittering even in the starlight and made sure he was presentable.

He didn’t know why he bothered. Altair didn’t care. Not that Altair didn’t care about Malik but he didn’t care what Malik looked like. “Altair,” he said softly, looking up at Eagle. “Altair come here, I need you.”

It took a moment but the brightest star in the Eagle did wink out and a moment later another jet of flame erupted in the plain close by. Altair was there dressed like a sunset in rich purples and deep reds that coiled around him nebulously with an indigo hood trimmed in starlight. His eyes shimmered from glowing gold down to amber like a flame and this was why Malik always tried to look presentable for Altair. Not that it ever _worked_ because Altair always dressed better than him. It was sort of annoying really. “I do love when you say that,” Altair said when he saw Malik and walked over to him.

“Yes yes, you’re very wonderful,” Malik might have been more reserved with Bezek but Altair liked that he was a smart ass.

“I am,” Altair said, now close, and gave Malik a kiss on the cheek. “But so are you. So a star must be at least as good.”

“You are in a very good mood tonight. Sleep well I gather?” Altair just ‘mhmd’ and kissed his cheek again. “Well, I hate to have to ruin it.”

Altair sighed and his breath was cold on Malik’s neck. “Now what?”

“Bezek visited me.”

“Ah, so that is where he went,” he said dismissively.

“He told me of things he and Deneb have been worried over. It is about Tarazed.”

Altair arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “What about Tarazed?”

“The two think he’s found himself a priest-“ he stepped back when the air around Altair started to shimmer as a great heat boiled off him.

“Absolutely not. I would have known,” Altair growled.

“The others did not know when you found me,” Malik said. “He could have fallen somewhere away.” The air roiled around Altair from his fury and his eyes were points of white hot metal. “Calm down, we don’t know it’s true. Bezek only thinks that because the rivers run greater in the east than usual because of more of a thaw. It could just be a beezel hatching or volcanic activity.” Even though Malik hadn’t heard of any firestorms in the south in years. They were probably due for another one and they often did cause some of the ice on the mountains to melt more than usual.

“I assume you aren’t just telling me this for no reason. You’re going to go investigate.”

“Yes. Of course. Stop a War before it starts,” he frowned deeply. “Eagle doesn’t need another so soon.”

The temperature around Altair lessened and Malik stopped sweating so profusely. “Yes,” he agreed though seemed almost unsure as he said it. Then he sighed and all the heat fizzled out, his eyes returning to a warm amber. “Just had to ruin my mood with this.”

“I’m sorry. I figured you’d want to know now.”

“Yes,” but it sounded complainy. He wrapped his arms around Malik’s neck. “And unfortunately this is more important than where I was going to tell you to go tonight.”

Malik rose his brows, “I’m going somewhere?” He wasn’t even surprised. When he wasn’t free of his own devices to travel Eagle as he saw fit Altair often told him where to go. Unlike the other stars who could only see their part of the sky designated to them, Altair could see the full breadth of Eagle. Once upon a time, when Malik had first come to Eagle, Altair would speak perfect pictures to him of all the beautiful places his land held and that Malik _must_ see them. Malik had seen most of them now, destroyed a few too. Altair always knew where Malik was needed.

“Mhm. I had a gift made for you,” he said.

Malik blinked in surprise. “A gift?” Altair hadn’t gotten him a gift in decades. Not since before the last Eagle War. That had really changed him. It had changed the entire landscape of Eagle and it was all Malik’s fault. Malik didn’t like to think about that.

“Yes. A gift, in the northwest.” So the opposite direction of where he was going. Great. Eagle wasn’t a huge land. Smaller than most of the great kingdoms back home and even Malik’s own town chain that had ended in Rigel had been wider across than Eagle. It still took a week to get from one side to the other on foot.

“Do I get to know what it is?” Malik asked hopefully.

Altair gave him an amused smile and patted his cheek fondly. “No. It’s a surprise. One I know you’ll like.”

“Not even a hint?”

“It will make you _wonderful_ ,” was all Altair said. That gave Malik no indication of what it was. Altair’s gift could literally be anything. He was Altair, the top god of Eagle. If he’d arranged a gift for Malik made by or from someone it would be done and Malik couldn’t even begin to guess it. Not to mention years Altair was displeased with him he’d even call a kiss a gift because he was an asshole.

“Alright. I’ll go get it after I see what this rumor is.”

“Good. I know you’re like it.”

“I can’t go if you don’t let me, Altair.”

“Oh- yes, of course,” Altair chuckled. Before he let go of Malik he kissed him, this time on the mouth. Malik grabbed the side of his hood and burned his hand on the starlight but didn’t care. Even if it didn’t wash away the lingering chill in his bones or fill him with power Malik just enjoyed kissing Altair. So close he smelled like polished cedar and tasted like sunshine. Warm like putting a rock that had been sitting out in the sun in your mouth. Then Altair pulled back. “Go make sure Tarazed isn’t doing something I won’t like.”

“On my word,” Malik said. Altair stepped back away from him and fire crawled along his body, consuming him in a great flash. Then he was gone. Malik glanced up and saw Altair back where he belonged in the sky. He looked down at his hand and brushed his fingernails across the burn. The burn healed, perfect skin replacing burn in an instant. Even the pain was gone. Malik knew he wasn’t immortal but sometimes he wondered if _this_ was like to be immortal. Temporary pains. Minor inconveniences. Being at the center of a world, no matter how small.

Malik picked up the rest of his things, affixing his old sword to his hip and scattered what was left of his old fire pit. It was like he’d never been there. Then he started across the field towards the southeast where there were no stars. Behind him, the city of Altair’s lights flickered in the darkness like the starlight trim along Altair’s hood.

—

The southwest of Eagle was barely better than a desert. Surrounding it on two sides were mountains like perfectly sectioning Aquilae off from Tarazed and Deneb. Yet despite that Aquilae had been so many’s favorite. Even outside of her region. Malik would hear people pray to her even in the north and he’d seen a shrine in the northwestern pine forests under Tseen Foo’s gaze, as far from Aquilae’s land as one could get. When Malik had first come from Capprius into Eagle he’d come through Aquilae’s domain. She’d even come to greet him the first night, despite being exhausted from the trek through the mist that surrounded Eagle on all sides.

Altair had been there as well, but said nothing. Back then Malik had thought Altair was just being rude to Aquilae, to not speak to her. Now he knew he was being protective. How many Wars had been fought over new priests? So many. Too many. All far before Malik had come. Unlike in Malik’s home priests were rarely heralded as champions, of great and benevolent (though sometimes not) forces to instill a god’s will upon the land. In Eagle they marked the beginning of an Eagle War. Altair hadn’t wanted Aquilae to get any ideas that he would not let anyone else have Malik. She’d been so kind though. So gentle and sweet. Even though Malik couldn’t speak a single word in the people’s language Aquilae had bid those of her region to welcome Malik gladly and widely.

Malik still didn’t know why she’d had to die. Of his many regrets, it was his greatest. That he had taken Aquilae out of the sky where she belonged.

Now, where she had once presided over was empty. Practically barren. The beautiful city of Aquilae had been destroyed with the others and most of the peoples had left. Tarazed and Deneb looked after her region now. It was neglected, to say the least. Not like the lush jungle to the north or the beautiful hills of the west.

Most of the towns were gone or abandoned. Malik passed several on his passage. It was like walking through a ghost world.

He’d been traveling for several days before he came to the ruin of Aquilae. It had once been a jewel. Now it was rubble. Buildings still stood but barely. They crumbled and swayed in the wind, whistling mournfully in the darkness. Malik entered the empty streets. Nothing moved. Nothing lived. The ground was still dark- somehow- like it had perpetually been dark stained from all the blood that had been spilled here. When Malik closed his eyes he could see the city as it had been. Fountains dotted every street corner and the buildings all had brightly colored umbrellas out in front of them, many with places to sit. Every door had been painted a different color and at the center had been the beautiful temple to Aquilae, as grand as the one to Altair himself. Dogs barked, children yelled and he could hear their mothers scolding them as they ran through the streets. At night they lit lanterns and flew them like kites just above the street to help illuminate in the darkness.

When Malik opened his eyes the beauty leeched away. Half destroyed buildings pierced the starless sky like accusing, jagged, fingers.

He’d done this.

Malik looked around with a sigh and walked on. If Tarazed did have a priest this is where they would be. A place he thought Malik would not go because of what he’d done. Normally he’d be right. Malik loathed to visit compass cities after the last Eagle War. But this was too important. Eagle would suffer if there were two priests. He knew that. They might have been siblings but the stars of Eagle were jealous, petty, hateful things who were filled with desires. Especially the cardinals, especially Tarazed who’d been so furious with Aquilae’s murder. Malik did not want to think of what would become of Eagle if Malik was made to actually fight another priest. It would be terrible if he won, and worse still if he lost. Altair would not take his death well or lightly.

He walked passed the destroyed and dilapidated buildings with only the sound of his boots and the gentle jingling of his armor and talismans as company. As he walked he casually moved his hand about, scanning, searching. If Tarazed had his priest here Malik would find them. With luck, they’d be new and still adapting to a nocturnal life. Malik would catch them when they were tired.

He stopped at an intersection in confusion. This didn’t feel right. His hand shook from the magic he was feeling. Slowly he turned and looked down the street. “There you are,” he said to himself. They were standing in the middle of the street, waiting for him. It still felt wrong. There was something not right.

“Priest Malik!” they called. They spoke the language of Eagle and Malik slowly cocked his head. They did not have the accent of someone from Eagle. They were from somewhere else.

“Aye,” he called back slowly. “And who are you, priest of Tarazed?” The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The searching magic he’d been using still didn’t feel right. There was no way it would react this strongly to a single person. Was Tarazed here? He wanted to look back, northwest, to where the Eagle sat perched in the dark sky but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the man before him. It was foolish to take your eyes off a priest, especially if they were your enemy.

“Does it matter? You’re here to kill me. Surely you have enough blood on your hands you don’t care about names.”

“Despite what I’m sure Tarazed has told you, I am not a monster,” Malik called back. “I serve my star. Same as you.”

“Unfortunate that your star is going nova then, isn’t it?” Malik didn’t react to the goading. He drew his sword and coated it in magic. It didn’t catch on fire but it did begin to glow. There was nothing wrong with Altair. This man was just trying to upset him. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, priest Malik?”

“The only one going nova is _you_ , priest of Tarazed,” Malik said and started to advance. Even as he did every sense he had told him to stop. That this was wrong. This felt wrong. It was because he was nervous about fighting a priest for the first time. How would his magic match up against theirs? Whoever this priest was they couldn’t be older than fifty, meaning Malik had a hundred years of experience on them, meaning he would crush them. Then there would be no wars in Eagle. All would be well.

They weren’t afraid of him as he approached and didn’t move. Stop, his instincts told him. STOP! Malik dug his feet in just in time as a lightning bolt streaked past in front of him, right where he would have been. The man on the street still had not moved and from here he could see them a bit better. Dark hair, pale skin like Malik only saw up in the northern mountains of Alshain and Tso Ke’s domains. For the first time he looked away and over to where the lightning had come from. Perched on a crumbling structure was a woman. Dark hair, pale skin. They were both dressed in dark clothing to appear as just another set of shadows in the darkness.

This wasn’t right. The man was the priest. Malik could feel it. And yet. She’d shot lightning at him. No alchemist or paladin could actually use magic. They created things that allowed them to simulate magic but none actually could. He felt the air stir and dropped, rolling backward as another lightning bolt jumped from the woman’s hand to impact where Malik had just been. Malik threw his sword at her. His aim was true but she dropped down from her ledge and it sailed over her. He had to roll again as the man shot a beam of super hot fire at him. Not quite a fire ball, more like a ray.

Two priests. Tarazed had two priests. Malik had not been expecting this.

He held his hand out to the man and concussed the air forward. They were sent flying back and landed hard on the ground so Malik could focus on the woman. He couldn’t fight them both at the same time. He had to deal with them one at a time. He watched her draw her own sword. It started to crackle and snap as lightning arced down its length, casting her in flickers of light and shadow. “You’re weaponless, Malik. We’ll make it quick.”

“You either must take me for a fool, or Tarazed had vastly overestimated your abilities.” Malik raised both hands just to eye level and the woman yelped as the ground beneath her buckled and heaved throwing her off her feet. Then Malik held his hand out and from the darkness came his glowing sword. The hilt slapped into his hand and he used it as an extension of himself. He swept the sword in a wide arc around him and fire appeared in its path. As the woman was getting to her feet he pointed the sword at her and the flame raced towards her, growing in size and turning from orange to white.

Malik didn’t know what it did to her as he was knocked off his feet as one of his legs crumpled. He looked over dumbly and saw the man had gotten up. Alright. That wasn’t good. He’d cut one of the tendons on the back of Malik’s knee that had caused him to fall and it was now bleeding profusely. Malik touched it and the wound healed immediately. He got to his feet and used his own cutting edge, whipping the air into knife sharpness. It got the man across the face and he leaned forward, bleeding. Malik hit him again just as someone bodily kicked him in the side of the head. Malik stumbled and fell, losing the grip on his sword. Shit. Guess the woman was up again.

She kicked him in the gut and he cried out. Her boot had what felt like a meat tenderizer on the toe, only the spikes were bigger. He hadn’t been expecting it. The man came over and they stood over him. “Tarazed said you’d put up more of a fight. Frankly, I’m disappointed,” he said. Cocky little shit.

“Apologies. I’m old, takes me a moment to get warmed up,” Malik said and held one hand up to them. Nothing happened for a moment. Then the woman screamed as a spider almost as big as Malik’s hand crawled out of her hair and down her face. Heh. Old and had a lot of tricks. A lot more time to figure out what his magic could do. The two were distracted by the huge spider and Malik could touch his abdomen, banishing the pain and injury. He got to his feet and when Malik touched them they both screamed as he broke their collar bones.

The man punched him, still screaming. He staggered back a step and the woman threw him down the street with her power. He skidded along the ground a few feet, dazed and then jumped back up. He saw them healing themselves but the collar bone had just been the start. He hadn’t just broken a bone, he’d set a vibration in their skeleton. Even as they mended their collar bones another bone broke under the stress. Malik called his sword back to his hand as they figured out how to fix this and used it to draw a glowing mark in the air in front of him.

When he’d first come to Eagle Altair had taught him how to use magic and now to use magic that not even the priests back home knew. It was very old magic, back when the gods of Eagle all had priests. It was mark magic and very powerful and dangerous. He’d hadn’t used them since the Eagle War where he’d destroyed the compass cities. A circle appeared around the pair and they were now just stopping the bone tremors from breaking them apart. They saw it but could do nothing when it started to glow and smoke. Malik saw them brace but he didn’t think it would matter. He’d used this mark to ruin the city of Alshain and there was nothing resembling a city there any longer. Malik completed the mark and it spun and flashed out of sight.

The earth rumbled and split. A geyser of magma shot out from the ground and engulfed them. This would kill them but it brought Malik no joy. The use of mark magic was pure destruction and he started to feel a gentle chill enter his lungs. He was still plenty warm but between the days since he’d last seen Altair and now this expensive mark magic he would be getting cold.

The magma ran its course and cooled, solidifying around their forms. Malik waited, just to be sure. He waited quite a while and he was glad he did. He raised an arm across to protect himself as the magma started to splinter like glass. Light poured out from the cracks like a sunbeam and shattered the still hot stone. The debris was sent flying and rock slag pinged off Malik’s magical barrier harmlessly. The two of them stood, very much alive, in the middle of the street, glowing with furious energy. Their eyes were star gold and Malik took a step back uneasily. His eyes never changed, no matter how much magic he used. He would know for when star’s eyes glowed gold they smoked. There were no stories of Malik with smoking eyes like these two.

Malik felt two huge invisible hands wrap around his body and lift him off his feet. Before he could wiggle away they lifted him up high and smashed him into the ground so hard he blacked out for a few seconds. When he came too he knew he’d broken at least a dozen bones. Maybe more. The pain was so overwhelming he couldn’t even process it. He heard them talking, walking towards him. No, this wouldn’t do. Through the pain, he managed to move his hand enough to heal his bones. More cold was creeping into his body now. The healing had taken more out of him than he’d thought, meaning there had been more broken and damage than he’d guessed.

They were near him by the time he jumped to his feet. No pain, no injury. They both punched him and Malik did his best to block. Then they started using magic again and Malik had to back up to avoid flame and lightning from colliding with his skin. “You disappoint, old man,” the man said.

“Oh give me a break,” Malik muttered. “I’m sorry ancient mark magic isn’t thrilling enough for you kids.” Behind the two the sun was starting to rise, staining the sky pink and yellow.

“Get with the times. You’re old hat and Eagle will be better without you,” the woman said. Malik didn’t understand the saying.

“Right. The man who’s lived here a hundred and fifty years is worse for this place than you too. What are you, thirty? Forty?” They didn’t answer and that was all the answer he needed. “Kids with big power not knowing how to use it. Bet Tarazed just showed you how to kill. Disappointing. I might be old but you’re the ones who lack originality.”

They both hurled a fireball at him. This time Malik didn’t block. He wanted them to really understand what they were dealing with. Malik accepted the fireballs and combined them as he twisted them around them and added his own power to them. He wrapped it around a boulder and coated it in static. Then he sent it hurdling back at them at tremendous speed. They had to jump out of the way but didn’t avoid the explosion that threw them to either side of the road. Malik had been well within the blast radius but he just lifted his hand a little and the shockwave passed right past him, not even rustling the talismans on his armor.

Malik called his sword and walked over to the man while they were pulling themselves to their feet. He ran his hand along the flat of the blade and runes burst into light along the spine. A hold over from when Altair had blessed his sword with enough magic to kill a god. Had almost broken his sword too. The magic was much weaker now. His sword wouldn’t even hurt a god but it was probably enough to kill a priest who was a granular in power compared to their star. The man was still crawling to his feet when Malik approached him and in a single motion stabbed him through the gut.

The man looked at him in surprise. The gold in his eyes was gone. He looked down at the sword in confusion. “Really, a sword? Tacky,” he said.

Malik pulled the sword out of his stomach with a grunt. “Then, by all means, heal yourself.”

The man touched his wound and Malik saw real panic when the wound didn’t heal. “Oh shit,” he said. “What did you do?” he yelled.

“Killed you,” Malik said without compassion. Without any feeling really.

The woman came around the side and tackled him. They went down in a tangle of limbs, the woman screaming and wrestling the sword from Malik’s grip. “You bastard! You hurt my brother!” she screamed.

Malik inhaled sharply when he felt his own sword, runes along the spine still glowing, pierce his skin through his more unprotected flank. This wasn’t good. Oh, this was not good. She stabbed him twice before Malik managed to wrest the sword away from her. Then he did something very stupid. If the wound didn’t kill him this certainly would but in this and at her mercy now he was dead anyway. He drew a simple mark in the air that was a twist of his wrist and he heard her cry out in confusion when he just disappeared from underneath her.

Malik now lay on the ground just outside the capital city of Altair. The sun was a hand width in the sky now and he was bleeding out on the field. Malik yanked off his armor and tried to stem the bleeding. He had no bandages. He had no use for them usually, he could always heal himself. He couldn’t heal himself and even if he could he didn’t know if he wanted to. His entire body felt like it had been dipped in an icy pool. His fingers shook even as he worked to take off his undershirt and press it against his wounds to try and do anything with the blood. He was so cold he was in pain and his teeth began to chatter and when he looked at his fingers he saw they were starting to turn blue at the tips. It was summer in Eagle but Malik felt so cold he was about to die. Teleportation was extremely taxing on him and used a lot of magic, even a short distance could make him go from warm to freezing in an instant. He’d teleported across the country. He felt like he was going to die.

“Altair,” he said through chattering teeth. His heart was beating as fast as it could to try and warm his freezing body but there would be no helping it. The cold would crush him. “Altair wake _up_. Please.” He looked at where the Eagle usually was. In the daylight, it was impossible to see. “Shit shit shit,” he muttered as he realized he hadn’t been putting as much pressure as he should have on the wound because he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. He called Altair’s name a few more time but still nothing happened each time his voice was weaker and weaker. “Damn you,” he hissed. “Don’t you break your promise to me you bastard. I need you. Wake up.” By now Malik was just a shivering ball of pain and blood.

Several more seconds passed and it felt like an eternity. Tears leaked out of Malik’s eyes. He was going to die. He was going to die _like this_. What a miserable fate. He sent a final prayer even though he could barely work his mouth now around his chattering teeth. “Altair, please. I need you, and your help. I don’t want to die. Please. Please. Wake up.” Malik just settled for shivering and then a gout of flame erupted feet from him.

“Malik— Malik!” Altair knelt down next to him and the next thing Malik knew Altair was kissing him. It was the best kiss he’d had in his entire life even if it wasn’t a very good kiss. It was just warm. So warm. The cold leeched away from him slowly, replaced by Altair’s glowing warmth. Even when Malik was warm Altair kept kissing him like he just wanted to make sure Malik was warm enough, like he wanted Malik to know he was safe now.

“Altair- Altair,” he gently pushed Altair away some. “I’m still bleeding. I can’t- they stabbed me with my own sword.”

“It’s okay. I’ll fix it,” Altair said gently and laid his hand on Malik’s bloody side. Malik’s sword might have stopped his own healing ability but that was just because he was a priest. Nothing withstood an actual god’s healing. He sighed in relief as Altair healed his wounds. The bleeding slowed and stopped and Malik lay back on the grass, exhausted. Altair laid down next to but above him. Malik closed his eyes tiredly. “Better? Warm enough?” he asked Malik.

Malik opened his eyes a little with a smile. “Yes, I’m warm enough,” he assured Altair. “I was afraid you wouldn’t hear me.”

“I was sleeping. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Altair said and nuzzled against Malik’s jaw. Malik just touched Altair’s curly hair with tired hands. “I take it Tarazed has a priest?”

“Heh, two,” Malik said.

“What?”

“He has two. Siblings. Twins maybe? I don’t know, it was hard to tell. But he definitely has two.”

“How? Altair hissed. “We all would have known if _two_ priest candidates showed up in Eagle.”

“Not from Eagle. Somewhere else. Not my town chain. They sounded different. And they were pale skinned. Very pale.” He closed his eyes tiredly. “I tried to kill them but when I did they… were strange.”

“What? What were they?”

“Their eyes. They smoked, like how yours do.”

“Shit,” Altair whispered.

Malik opened one eye, “What?”

“Do you remember how much of my own power I gave you?”

“Yeah. A grain of rice. More than enough.”

“Yes. Tarazed gave them more. Two grains each? Enough to affect them.”

“Ah shit,” Malik muttered. “Well, that explains why they didn’t die even when I covered them in magma.”

“You need to go get your gift, Malik. It will help you.”

“And what is it?”

Altair frowned. “I wanted it to be a surprise but. It’s a sword. A new sword. It sounds like you need it if these two could get the better of you.”

“I was caught off guard.”

“With it they won’t be able to touch you. Now go get the sword.”

Malik sighed a little. “Very well. Where is it?”

“On the river where Bezek and Tseen Foo’s lands meet there is a town with a smith. The smith has your sword.”

“Alright,” he said tiredly. “Sleep first, then I’ll go get the sword.”

“Good,” Altair laid down next to him which surprised him.

“Staying the day?”

“I would feel better,” was all Altair said. Malik just grinned a little and kissed Altair on the forehead. He did sit up to position his cloak under them a bit better before laying back down on the soft grass and falling asleep with Altair pressed up next to him.

—

Malik found the right town because it called to him. The town wasn’t much. A few houses, a water mill, a shop, and a forge. Unlike the rest of the towns along the river Malik had passed through this one felt like magic. He stopped and immediately went to the forge. There was only a young boy there. Well, young to Malik. They were well into their late teens, early twenties at most. They were just sitting at the front desk boredly. “Hello,” Malik said, startling them.

“Huh! Oh, sorry hello—“ then he saw who it was and his eyes got huge. “Dad!” he yelled slowly. “Dad! The priest is here!” That amused Malik as he scrambled out of the chair calling for his father. He waited and eventually the boy came back. “Sorry— sorry he’s uh, not here,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s alright. I assume you know why I’m here. You can just give me the weapon.”

The boy grimaced. “He- uh… keeps it locked up. He doesn’t want anything to happen to it so likes keeping it safe.”

“Show me,” Malik said.

“Uh—

“What? Nervous?” They said nothing. “What name am I known by in this town?”

Knowing Malik wouldn’t like it they said, “Godkiller, sir.”

Malik sighed. He really did hate that name. He couldn’t wait until the last who remembered the Eagle War were dead so they couldn’t give first-hand accounts and drag him through the mud of a gods’ war. It was true, he had killed a god but that wasn’t all he was. He much preferred his older names. Bringer of Rain, Pathfinder, or Citybuilder to name a few. Godkiller got old quickly since that wasn’t who he was. Malik leaned against the counter. “You know what they used to call me in Bezek?” he asked him. The boy shook his head. “The Flowering Hand. Drove Bezek crazy because whenever I moved through the west I’d make flowers bloom where I walked, just to annoy him. Would throw off entire fall seasons when fig trees would rebloom or wildflowers would bloom out of season. You know that?” The boy shook his head even while he smiled. “You’ve heard of the Nightbloom Festival, right?”

A nod, “We celebrate that here too, sir,” he said.

“People in Tseen Foo started throwing it when I’d come through once a year. I think they did it hoping to annoy me because I was bothering Bezek so much. Just became tradition now.” Even though the city of Tseen Foo was gone, the festival continued. “Godkiller is just one of my names and by far my least interesting. Now, show me your father’s safe. I’m here for my sword.”

The kid nodded and beckoned Malik to come behind the counter. He followed him around to the back of the forge to a locked glass cabinet with beautiful plate armor in it as well as a sword in the scabbard on the bottom of the cabinet. His new sword. “Here it is, sir,” he said. “My dad keeps it locked and the key on him.”

“It’s no matter,” Malik said and touched the lock to test it. Then he pulled a pin out from one of his talismans and inserted it into the lock and gave it a little wiggle. The metal pin sprouted teeth and the key turned, the cabinet opened without a fuss. The boy stared at him in awe as he picked the sword up and then closed and locked the cabinet again. The pin still had teeth when Malik pulled it out but he just gave it a little shake and the teeth sunk back into the pin. He replaced it back into the talisman. “Thank you,” Malik told him and drew the sword to see it.

He’d only pulled it out a few inches when he slammed it back into its scabbard in horror. It felt wrong. It felt horrible. “Everything all right, sir?” the boy asked.

Malik looked at him slowly. Sweat had sprouted on his brow just from that brief interaction with the sword. “Your father made this?”

“Ah… well— uh—

“Did he make this?” Malik demanded.

“Most of it, sir.”

“Who made this?”

“Uh— I did.”

“You?” Malik didn’t believe him. He narrowed his eyes at the boy.

“My grandfather was assigned to make it by Altair," he said, practically tripping over himself to explain. "He couldn’t figure out how to work the metal so it fell to my father but he couldn’t either. I uh— I figured out how. It came to me in a dream. My father helped me. Finished it since I’m still learning but… yes, I made it.”

Malik looked at the boy, then down at the sword. Now that he’d felt it the first time he could feel its wrongness through the scabbard. How had a boy made such a thing? What even was it? “What sort of metal is it made from?”

“I’m not sure,” he said. “Altair came to my grandfather shortly after the end of the Eagle War. He said, ‘make this into a weapon for my champion and you shall never know hardship,’ and left the rough metal with him. He said it looked like fallen star metal but it never acted like it.”

It was early night outside. He’d come pretty much as everything was about to close for the night. “Altair, come here,” he said and the boy went white in fright. “What’s your name?” he asked him.

“Desmond… sir,” he stammered.

Altair appeared in a flash of light and flame. “What?” he asked as a greeting.

“What is the meaning of this,“ Malik demanded, motioning to the sword in his hand.

“Oh. You got your gift. Do you like it?”

“It feels evil, Altair. What is it?”

Altair’s brow furrowed. “It isn’t evil, Malik. It’s a tool.”

“What did you give me?”

“A sword, Malik,” Altair rolled his eyes at him. Desmond was openly staring at Altair. Altair glanced at him and Desmond immediately fell to his knees, face down on the ground in reverence.

“What _sort_ of sword.”

“One that will protect you and one that will take care of Tarazed. It’s a sword that kills the unkillable.” Malik looked at the sword in greater horror. Had he just not told Desmond he wasn’t the Godkiller? That that was just one part of him? And now here he was with a sword specifically designed to kill gods.

“Why would you ask Desmond’s family to make a god-killing sword, Altair? What is wrong with you?”

Altair cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I? Especially after what happened in Aquilae. You need it.”

Malik was furious and looked away from him. Altair knew when he wasn’t wanted and disappeared. Once he was gone Desmond slowly got to his feet. “Priest— I’m sorry.“

Malik breathed out angrily. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “You did as your god commanded.” It still felt wrong and bad. This entire thing felt so bad. He didn’t want to carry it. He didn’t want to use it. Just it so close made him feel sick. A proper god-killing sword. Nothing like the fading runes on his sword. This one would always kill a god. He couldn’t bring himself to attach it to his belt.

Like he understood Malik’s turmoil Desmond said, “I could carry it for you.”

Malik looked at him, “What?”

“I made it. I didn’t know what I was making, or that I was making something bad. But if it really is bad then no one else should have to carry it.”

Malik’s face softened a little. “It isn’t your fault, Desmond. This sword is not on your hands.”

“But I feel responsible. Please— I’m sorry I made such a thing. If you say it’s evil, I believe you but you’re not evil.”

Malik looked at him, saw his earnestness. He really did just want to do good, to ease a mistake he’d made. “I’m taking this sword somewhere very dangerous. And won’t your father miss you?”

“Maybe. He’s off drinking down the river most like. He won’t miss me till he’s sober. Hasn’t been sober for a few weeks now since we finished the sword. I think he’s angry I did what he couldn’t.”

That pulled on Malik’s heart. He knew all about disappointing your father. Malik’s had wanted him to be a potter like he had been. Malik still had a few earthen pieces back in the temple for Altair in the capital when he went there. His father had made them for him the first time he’d returned home from Eagle. His father had been glad Malik had found something to do with his life, even though it hadn’t been to follow in his trade. He sighed. “Alright,” he agreed.

“Really?”

“Yes. We’ll leave tomorrow night so you can prepare and rest for a change in time.” Desmond nodded. “Meet me down the river. I’ll be waiting.”

“Alright,” Desmond nodded. Malik contemplated the sword and then left it against the cabinet and left the forge.

The next night Desmond found him and Malik was surprised. He not only had the sword but the plate he’d seen in the cabinet. “How’d you get that?” he asked Desmond.

“It was just behind glass. And you said it was going to be dangerous. So I came prepared,” he nodded.

Malik gave him a fond little smile. This kid just wanted to do the right thing. So rare in the world sometimes. “Alright. C’mon, it’s a long way to Aquilae.”

—

It was sunset when they reached the edge of the city of Aquilae. “Oh,” Desmond said sadly when he saw the destroyed buildings. He’d grown up away from the compass cities where the Eagle Wars hadn’t touched. “Are— are they all like this?”

“In some way or another,” Malik said gravely. “Altair,” he called.

“You’re sure they’re still here?” Desmond asked even as Altair appeared in a flash of fire.

“Yes,” Malik said.

“What is it? Are they dead?” Altair asked. He seemed agitated tonight. He was also wearing black without ornamentation. That seemed so strange for him. Altair loved looking as marvelous and majestic as possible. Even on terrible nights he’d come to Malik dressed in colors and jewels. It wasn’t until he came in black that Malik realized over the past few decades his colors had been getting darker. How had he not noticed? He didn’t think about it.

“Not yet,” Malik said and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and kissed Altair firmly to top himself off. “I’ll call you again when it’s done,” he said and released Altair.

Altair gave him amused smirk. “Alright. I’ll be watching. Don’t disappoint me.” Then he was gone.

Malik looked at Desmond who was staring, open mouthed. “What?”

“You kiss him!?” he cried.

Malik just rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Give me the sword and stay here,” he ordered. “Desmond,” he snapped when he was stuck still. Desmond fumbled with the sword and offered it. Malik pulled it out of the scabbard and felt ill holding it. He didn’t want an excuse not to pull it out so he left the scabbard with Desmond and walked into the Aquilae. Desmond stayed where he was.

Malik used magic to find them a second time. This time they weren’t expecting him and he found the woman making breakfast. She looked up, expecting her brother, and came face to face with Malik instead. “Jacob!” she yelled. Malik didn’t know if that was the man’s name or if she was yelling something in her native tongue. She flicked her hand and lightning jumped from her fingers to crash into Malik. He raised his sword to help deflect it and they were both surprised when the lightning wasn’t deflected. The sword simply absorbed the lightning. Malik felt the sword tremble a little in his hand and they both stared at the sword in stunned silence for a few seconds. “Jacob!” she yelled again and blasted him back with a concussion wave while he was still in shock about what had just happened.

This thing didn’t kill gods. It was worse than that. It _ate_ magic. No wonder Malik felt so disgusting holding it. No wonder he felt like it was evil. Well, this thing would certainly kill these priests. He couldn’t let her brother come over. Malik flicked his hand and yanked her off her feet as she was running off. She stumbled and fell forward onto her face. Malik ran over even as she rolled over and threw a thousand slivers of rock right at him. He only had to bring his sword up a little and the sword absorbed them too. Just for good measure as she scrambled away on all fours she tossed a fireball over her shoulder. Just as before the sword absorbed the magic. It vibrated in his hand after it had consumed the fireball for a few seconds before going still.

“What? What is it?” the other priest, Jacob maybe, had arrived. He saw his sister on the ground and then Malik. He did the same thing his sister did and tried to shoot a fireball at him. Malik just lifted the sword and it was consumed.

“Let’s not make this difficult. Please,” Malik said, already feeling tired. Jacob was staring at Malik in horror and then looked at his hand. He threw another fireball at Malik but it did nothing. “C’mon. Don’t make me have to make this worse for you guys than it already is.”

“Go die, Malik,” the woman spat. “You ruin things. You ruined Eagle.”

Malik stared at her. “You have no idea who I am or what I’ve done. You’re just some angry kids and I’m sorry Tarazed sent you here where you would die.”

They didn’t like that and threw pure magic at him. Not even channeling it elementally. Just raw magic. Malik allowed the sword to consume it and drew a mark in the air with his finger. Seemed counterproductive to use a magic eating sword to make magic. The ground came up and locked around their legs. They tried to kick it away but it crawled up their bodies to their waists. Malik felt no satisfaction in this, or what he was about to do. They both struggled, smashing at the rock around them with their fists but Malik had made the rock growing. Where it chipped and cracked it just grew again, thicker than before like a scab. The woman looked up at him when he stood over her, her eyes wide and fearful.

Malik made the sign he’d made many time before when he’d helped perform buriel services. The same one he used over personal graves and mass graves of the compass cities. He raised his sword, working magic into his muscles. “No!” the man yelled as Malik swung down. Her head came clean off and landed a foot from her body. “NO!” he screamed as blood tried to splatter on Malik’s armor. It just hit a magical barrier.

The man ripped his way out of the stone holding him. “You monster!” he roared and hurled magic and fire and lightning and ice and wind and stone and everything he could within reach at Malik. What the sword didn’t absorb Malik simply blocked or stepped out of the way of. Around the maelstrom of magic, hate, and might Malik just walked slowly towards Jacob. By the time Malik had arrived Jacob had exhausted himself and knelt on the ground shivering, his lips starting to turn blue. “You killed her… you monster. You killed her.” He rambled in his native tongue after that.

“I know. I’m sorry. But Eagle can’t afford more than one priest.” Malik wasn’t cruel to him or let him suffer a slow, freezing death. He made a sign of hope for the dead and took Jacob’s head off too. He closed his eyes and stuck the sword into the dirt holding out a hand to either of them. The earth moved and swallowed them up, pulling them down ten feet so animals wouldn’t come and scavenge their bones just as there was a flash of fire nearby of a star coming to land. Malik expected Altair but when he looked over his shoulder he beheld the vision of Tarazed.

A fiery fist slammed into Malik’s face and sent him flying. His jaw was broken and burned and he gasped for breath. “You stupid fool,” Tarazed hissed. Tarazed was less human-like tonight than the last time Malik had seen him years ago. He was a nightmare creature of flame and fury that wavered where he stood, his eyes white hot hatred. “You ignorant, blind, _fool_.”

Malik sighed and touched his cheek, healing his jaw and blistered flesh. “Hello, Tarazed. Fancy meeting you here,” Malik said, cheeky as could be.

“I steal your warmth for this, welp. You don’t even know what you did here.”

Malik got to his feet, his cape falling across his shoulder. “I ensured Eagle was safe from another War, safe from you.”

“From _me_? Oh. That is hilarious, Malik,” Tarazed seethed and roiled and loomed above Malik as a tower of sentiant flame. “It is Eagle that should be kept safe from _you_ , Godkiller, Cityburner, Orphaner, Firestorm.” Malik didn’t move but his eye did twitch. He didn’t like those names he’d aquired. “Or as the northerns call you, the Mountain Breaker. You think Eagle must be kept safe from me? I helped Altair carve this land out of the mist itself and you think it must be kept safe from me? Madness. Pure madness. Do you not see? Do you not know? Or are you just blind?” Malik didn’t understand his ravings. “The sky above us is dark, _because of you_ ,” he jabbed a furious finger in Malik’s face. “For what? Hmm? For what? Do you know? Did Altair divine you a proper answer? Or did you just not ask him? Did you just decide to blindly murder a god because he told you to?”

“Aquilae’s death is unfortunate,” Malik said. “I don’t have answers for you Tarazed. You would have to ask Altair.”

“Strange, isn’t it though? I have asked. He has no answer. Why did he have his own baby sister _murdered_ by his priest? And then he sends you here, to murder mine.”

“Eagle doesn’t share priests well, Tarazed. You know this. I was there over a hundred years ago, before you all had really known of me, when I was barely a priest. I watched a small War burst forth because Tso Ke decided he liked a girl from the belt of Aquila. You burned her village to the ground and she ended up dead. You think Eagle would not have suffered because I was not the only one?” Tarazed had no answer. “I don’t always know what Altair thinks but I trust him. And I trust him to know better than I. And it was not Altair who originally sent me here. It was your brother. Altair is not the source of all evil things in Eagle, Tarazed.”

“No. He is just the source of you and you have wrought enough evil in this land, Malik. You do not even see what is before you.” Malik stayed calm. It’d do no good to get into a fight with Tarazed. Even with a sword that ate magic Malik would be destroyed in an instant. “Just _look_ Malik. Do yourself the favor.” There was another flash of flame and Altair appeared. “Getting nervous, _brother_?” Tarazed hissed at him. Altair was still dressed all in black.

“Why would I be nervous of the ramblings of an idiot?” Altair asked him cooly.

“I’m not an idiot. You are. A fool, Altair.” Tarazed grew ten feet till he was a giant of white and black flame.

“That isn’t any way to speak to me, Tarazed,” Altair said calmly. “You lost, again. I won. Now go back to where you belong.”

Tarazed glared at Altair and then looked at Malik. “Look, Malik. Look at him.”

Malik furrowed his brow and looked at Altair. “I see my star,” he said. Altair smiled smugly.

Malik jumped back when Tarazed yelled in frustration and sent out a wave of flame from around him. He held his sword in front of him to avoid touching the horrible fire of a god-star. Malik’s face dropped in surprise when Tarazed _attacked_ Altair. Altair sidestepped calmly and Tarazed missed his lunge. Not even touching him Altair made a sort of smacking motion with one hand and Tarazed fell forward even more. “I think that’s quite enough of you, Tarazed,” Altair said darkly. “Malik, get rid of him.”

Malik stared at him. “What?” he asked, confused.

“I didn’t give you that sword for no reason, Malik,” Altair said. He had his hand only casually held out to Tarazed and was pressing him firmly into the ground, hard enough to leave a dent.

“Altair. Part of the sky is dark already. I don’t think-

“I’m not asking you to think, Malik. Tarazed has obviously gone mad.” He scoffed. “Leaving Eagle to find two priests because he’s angry about Aquilae.”

“You killed our sister, you bastard,” Tarazed hissed.

“She was a traitor,” Altair said. “Just as you are, Tarazed. Now Malik, get rid of him.” Every sense Malik had screamed against what Altair was asking of him. He looked at Altair in confusion, dispair even, then he looked at Tarazed, laying helpless on the ground, bound down by Altair’s might. “Malik,” Altair said again. “Don’t forget to who you belong.” That made Malik’s chest cold.

“Why don’t you just do it?” Malik had to ask.

“Gods can’t kill each other,” Altair said. “That’s why we let our priests do our fighting for us. That’s certainly one of the reasons why I spirited you away from under Rigel’s nose. Tarazed is a danger to Eagle, he needs to be stopped. Do it.”

Malik looked at Tarazed and walked up his length slowly. He still couldn’t move because of how Altair was holding him down. “Making him do your dirty work, Altair. How like you.”

“At least go nova in dignity, Tarazed,” Altair said calmly. Malik looked down at Tarazed and Tarazed looked back with his suddenly human-like golden eyes. He knelt next to Tarazed. “What are you doing?”

“Doing my duty as a priest,” Malik said. He made the sign over Tarazed. “Any fnal words?” he asked Tarazed.

Tarazed was not afraid. He was just angry at his weakness, his inpotance. “Your feeling is right,” he whispered to Malik. “This is wrong. Something is wrong with him.” Malik just looked into his eyes gravely not knowing what to do. Then he swallowed, licked his lips and stood up again. He took his new sword and in a clean movement stabbed it down in the middle of Tarazed’s chest. The sword turned white hot in his hands and vibrated so hard he had to take his hands off it. It _ate_ Tarazed, light, power, and all. Malik looked to the north east and saw Tarazed’s star flare. It would dim in a night or so and the stars would begin to fade from the southern sky.

Altair came over to Malik. He put an arm across his shoulder and kissed Malik on the cheek. Malik didn’t respond and just looked at the sword sticking in the ground and where once a god had lain. For the first time in a hundred and fifty years, Malik felt doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it please consider leaving a review. Even if it's just screaming (actually those are the best). I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.


	3. A Stranger Calling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUCH OVERDUE! But finally, it is finished! This chapter is brought to you by Rampakslue and Anglophilicsins.
> 
> Much more sweet and gay on the altmal front than chapter 2 *finger guns*

Desmond was waiting for him when he left Aquilae. Malik felt heavier as he left the crumbling city and found Desmond sitting at a fire his all his armor still on, nervously watching the city with difficulty thanks to how purely black it was out here without the stars and no lights for dozens of miles. When Desmond saw him he leapt to his feet. “Malik! You’re back. How did it go? Did you take care of those other priests?” Desmond asked.

Malik wasn’t really listening. He just put the naked godkiller sword into Desmond’s hands, picked up his gear, and didn’t stop walking. He was headed north west, out of the land of no stars, towards the Belt of Aquila that surrounded the Eagle at the furthest north western edge of the sky. Desmond scrambled to kick the fire out and followed after Malik. His plate jingled as he jogged to catch up and tried to talk to Malik. Malik didn’t answer him once.

He honestly wasn’t really with Desmond. He was still back in Aquilae, looking down at Tarazed before stabbing his sword straight through his chest and how hot the sword had become. Too hot to hold. Altair had been so pleased but Malik had shown him the same attention he now showed Desmond. That had annoyed him and he’d vanished in a flash of fire. All he could think about was what Tarazed had said as his last words. That there was something wrong with Altair.

It wasn’t so out of character for Altair as Tarazed made it sound. He’d also acted cold and calculated with Aquilae the first time Malik had entered Eagle. He’d been so ready to burst into flames and throw them either back into the sky or deep into the earth when they’d all come one at a time to inspect Altair’s new priest. It was how he was protective of Malik before Malik could protect himself. Tarazed’s priests had been a real and significant threat to Malik’s existence and not something Altair would have tolerated. In turn Tarazed, who would go out with the express purpose of finding priests to bring back to Eagle to murder Malik, could not be tolerated. Neither things that so fully threatened Malik’s life were allowed to continue existing as far as Altair was concerned. It made sense that he’d ordered Malik to kill him, since he couldn’t do it himself, so that Malik would stay safe.

He came to the conclusion that what had happened last night wasn’t as wildly out of character as it had seemed in the moment as the sun was starting to rise. They’d made good time but they should really be stopping to rest for the day. He looked over his shoulder and saw Desmond some fifty feet behind him, dragging his feet tiredly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Desmond,” Malik said once he was in ear shot. He forgot Desmond had been on a strictly nocturnal schedule for only about seven nights and followed after Malik in full plate. They also hadn’t stopped since they’d left Aquilea and Malik forgot that mortals were significantly more delicate than Malik was. Barely more than a week ago Malik had had nearly all the bones in his body broken and he was as right as rain. Humans didn’t come back from that. They usually died.

“It’s fine,” Desmond sighed. “But… are we stopping for the day?”

“Yes. We are,” Malik assured him.

“Oh good,” Desmond groaned and immediately flopped down on the ground.

Malik chuckled and left him to take off his plate before it got too warm and went to find both food and some firewood to cook it if needed. At the very least he wanted some fire to heat water for tea. He didn’t find anything out here in the brush but he saw old signs of antelope which was something. He did find some good dried out saplings from when life used to grow more here when Aquilae had tended the land. He returned to Desmond who’d removed his shiny plate armor and numerous padding and was sitting in only the thinnest of clothes, using a cloth to wipe the surface of the breast plate clean of dirt. Malik put the little branches in a pile and snapped his fingers. Fire erupted from nothing. He pulled a small kettle out from his gear and poured some of his canteen into it. He set it to hover over the cracking fire and laid out his bedroll. Desmond had since done the same.

Malik did the same as Desmond and removed his armor, neatly laying it down on the ground and checking all the ties, buckles, and talismans carefully to make sure they were secure. He also checked the plates that made the armor up and that they were unblemished. His water was starting to boil by the time he was done and Malik put it down next to him and opened the top. He put a rolled up tea bomb into the kettle. It was only a little bigger than the biggest knuckle of his thumb but immediately burst as it hit the water and quickly stained it amber. As Malik was putting the lid back on the kettle he thought to himself that it reminded him of Altair’s eyes.

Malik watched Desmond clean his armor and didn’t offer to help. He’d done so at first but now knew Desmond preferred to do it by hand.

Out of his armor Desmond looked much smaller than Malik was used to. The plate and padding added significant mass to him. Not that Desmond was weak by any means. He was a smith and used to carrying around heavy ingots or tools and smacking metal into shape but only his arms were big and had any muscle definition. Everywhere else was soft. Malik couldn’t help but think that if Tarazed had gone so far with two priests because Aquilae was dead what would the other gods do now that there were two dead Eagle gods? As it was neither he nor Altair were on good terms with the northern gods. Alshain especially had secluded herself and didn’t even come out of the sky for festivals celebrated in her honor. Tso Ke and Tseen Foo equally resented Malik for very different reasons.

In the north east they called him Mountain Breaker to this day because he’d shattered the mountain that had had a huge carving of an effigy of Tso Ke that overlooked the city that bore his name. It had caused an avalanche that had consumed the entire city. Tso Ke had promised Malik would regret it when he’d seen the destruction. On the other side of the country Tseen Foo had branded Malik Firestorm and still deeply resented him for the Red Lash he’d inflicted upon the north west where he’d burned down a hundred miles of old pine forests and the city of Tseen Foo during the Eagle War. It was called the Red Lash because the sky had been red for days as the fire blazed until all that remained was ash that had been washed away by a later rain, revealing the red earth characteristic of the north west. Even fifty years later the Red Lash had not recovered and it had crippled the land’s timber production which in turn strangled the rest of Eagle’s ability to get large quantities of lumber.

Both of Alshain’s neighbors had every reason to hate Malik and now even more that he’d killed their brother. They’d been wary and afraid when he’d just killed Aquilae. But a Cardinal Star? This would breed anger.

A young smith without real combat training would be slaughtered in moments. It made Malik’s stomach roll. “Hey, Malik,” Desmond said.

“Hmm?”

“Your tea is going to get cold if you just leave it there,” Desmond said. He was laying on his bedroll now and eating some of his rations.

“Oh, right,” Malik said and poured himself a cup of the deeply amber tea. The cup was one of the ones his father had made him. It had a chip in the top but Malik liked it like that. It, unlike Malik, aged, and reminded him of actual passing of time. He added a little sugar to his tea and sipped it.

“So… You killed those priests?” Desmond asked him slowly.

“I did,” Malik said.

“The Eagle looked different last night,” Desmond ventured.

“I also killed Tarazed. With that very sword you’re carrying for me.” Desmond swallowed.

“So… now what?”

“Now I’m taking you home, where you belong,” Malik said and took a sip of his tea.

“What!” Desmond sat up quickly. “If I go back you’ll have to carry the evil sword yourself, Malik,” he said.

“That is something I must live with. What I do not have to live with is your life on my hands.”

“What?” Desmond didn’t get it. Malik told him that since he’d killed a Cardinal Star the others would probably be angry. He didn’t want Desmond to get mixed up in such things. “That’s… fair I guess. But I could still help you.”

“Desmond, it’s safer and better for me and you if you were home.”

Desmond sighed and thumped down on his bedroll. “I guess,” he looked at Malik across the fire, not lifting his head. “I just liked traveling with you. Even if the pace was horrid. I’ve never left that stretch of river before now. Thought I was going to live and die knowing only that river. I got to see a lot of Eagle with you. You see a lot of things with a priest.”

Malik’s face softened. “Yes. I know. But it is better for you if you were home. We’ll stop at Altair at the very least before then so you can see the capital. Altair is a beautiful city.”

“Is it as big as Osetalla?”

“Bigger,” Malik said. “It is the largest city in all of Eagle. The last compass… city,” he ended slowly, sadly.

“You destroyed the others,” Desmond said. It wasn’t accusatory. It was simply a question and a statement.

“I did,” Malik said. “And a lot of other things too. Let’s not speak of it.”

“Of course. I can only imagine it’s horrible to think of,” Desmond said.

Malik had another cup of tea and emptied the spent tea bomb with a bit of magic, throwing it into the fire. There it didn’t burst into flames but rather rolled and sparked, dancing across the top of the flame and rolled back into a tight little tea ball once it was dry. Desmond had seen him do that several times now but still looked amazed when he did it. Malik got a lot of use out of his tea like that which was good because since the Eagle War the land it used to be grown had been partially destroyed. Most of the tea had once been grown in the northern mountains, especially around Alshain and Tso Ke but Malik had ripped up a lot of the land there to make a point. It was coming back but fifty years was only one human life time. It would take more time yet for all the things Malik had broken to come back to their old strength.

He tucked the tea ball into his pack and snuffed out the fire. Then he laid down with a yawn. The sun was fairly high in the morning sky by now and after a long walk all night Malik was exhausted, Desmond even more so. Malik was still getting situated and when he looked over saw that Desmond was already asleep, the flap of his bedroll draped across his head and eyes to block out the sunlight. Malik did the same and mercifully slept without dreaming.

—

They’d arrived at dawn and in the imperfect early morning light the city was soft and backlit by a pink and yellow sunrise. Malik had not been exaggerating when he’d told Desmond Altair was a big city. It stretched to the horizon in both directions in the middle of a huge lake that was fed by the rivers from all over Eagle. Altair came into view a few hours before they were actually close enough to see it in full as a smudge in the distance before it blossomed like the flower it was with the passing of time and distance. Desmond just stopped and stared once they got closer to the shore. Osetalla was a large city in the land of Bezek and had swelled in size after the city of Bezek had been raised but it had nothing on Altair. It was truly massive and was the largest city Malik had ever heard of. Maybe the city that surrounded the grand temple of Sirius far to the east of Rigel would be bigger but there were only a handful of stars brighter in the sky than Altair. His city, by definition, was greater than others. Even before the Compass Cities had been destroyed none of them had stood up against Altair’s magnificence.

Buildings rose up from the raised and levied island like neatly coordinated boxes, each of them made of gleaming white, yellow, and pink sand stone bricks and painted in stunning murals. Some buildings coordinated their paintings and showed larger scenes that splashed across entire streets. Even at a distance you could make out some of the scenes. In the middle, barely visible at this distance beyond all the buildings, was the tip of the huge tower that sat in the middle of Altair’s temple.

He looked at Desmond and the boy was just staring open mouthed at the city. Malik chuckled. “Cmon,” he said.

“H-how do we get across,” Desmond squeaked.

“Well, normal people pay a toll and take a ferry of some sort. I really don’t like boats,” Malik said and stepped down the shore.

It took more than a simple hand wave for this. Stars, and thus Malik’s, heart of magic lay in fire. Their magic was icy so they had to keep themselves aflame to not be killed by the very nature of their freezing existence. So fire, explosions, and destruction came easily with magic because fire was, at its most basic state, something that ate, consumed, and destroyed. In opposition it meant water and liquid were much more difficult to deal with. Malik usually just didn’t deal with them because it took a few extra seconds of concentration and took a little more magic. But he really did hate boats. They always made him seasick and it was undignified for the priest of Altair to get seasick and throw up on a ferry to or from his star’s city. He much preferred to walk.

Malik drew a mark in the air, leaving a trail of shining fire light in its wake and it burst when he completed it and Malik’s boots felt a bit warm. “Desmond, c’mon,” he beckoned to the boy still on the shore. “Unless you want to take the ferry?” Desmond quickly came down to the edge of the shore. “This will make your boots hot, so don’t freak out,” Malik said and drew the same mark in the air.

Desmond still jumped a little. “What did you do?”

“You’ll see,” was all Malik said and took a step into the water. As he did the water shot away from where his boots touched. He walked into the lake and the water crawled away from where he walked creating a wall on all sides of him and a few feet around him in all directions. The wall was over his head when he looked back to check on Desmond. He could see Desmond through the wall of water and he was still standing on the shore. “Hurry up,” Malik called and laughed when Desmond started. “The magic doesn’t last forever.”

He waited just to make sure Desmond followed. He stepped tentatively into the water. Then, with greater confidence as water rose up around him strode towards Malik. Their columns of air met. “This is amazing,” Desmond said, eyes so wide they looked like the moon. “I didn’t know you could do this.”

“I did tell you names like Godkiller were my least interesting names, didn’t I?” Malik asked him and continued on towards the city. Desmond followed after.

The island was a mile and a half from the shore and as they got near it the land mass rose up in front of them like a massive wall. Desmond had his neck craned back to look up at it as they came up against the slick algae covered mass. The city soared a good two hundred feet above them. Malik put his hand against the rock and gave it a little push. The entire face shifted and with a great grinding sound Malik pulled a stairway out of the very island. The steps themselves were dry for the most part, at the very least were free of slick algae. Desmond stared at that too. Then Malik started up the stairs and Desmond followed.

At least for a little bit. Desmond got tired from the stairs fairly quickly. “Malik,” he said when Malik stopped because Desmond hadn’t anticipated how tiring the stairs would be.

“Hmm?”

“Is this… just what life is like with you? You just don’t think about doing impossible things all the time? You didn’t… really talk a lot or do this much on the way to Aquilae, which I understand and all. But is this normal with you?”

“That’s a silly question,” Malik said. “Of course it is. I use magic all the time. Going from your town to Aquilae I was— anxious. Anxiety does not mix well with magic. I thought something bad was going to go down in Aquilae; and I was right. But the danger is over now too so there’s no reason for me to feel anxious.”

“So you just do ridiculous and impossible things all the time then?”

“I have told you; I’m not just Godkiller or Firestorm or Orphaner. Before the Eagle War… it was different. You grew up after it, you can’t really understand. Now are you ready? The mark is going to wear off fairly soon and I don’t fancy getting caught in the wave.”

“Right. Of course,” Desmond got to his feet with a grunt and got to the top of the stair well without having to stop again.

A few people had gathered by the edge of the stairwell, confused as to what was happening and how a staircase had appeared when there hadn’t been one there before. Then they saw Malik and all their questions were answered in a single moment.

Unlike elsewhere in Eagle the citizens of Altair didn’t look away from Malik or steal glances or directly move away from him as quickly as possible. Here the horrors of the Eagle War were only nightmare stories happening to people far away from themselves. They weren’t afraid of Malik and in Altair his older names were still more common to hear than the ones he’d earned during the Eagle War. They nodded politely to him when he and Desmond stepped onto the street but did walk away. They weren’t drawn to his spectacle of existing for so long anymore. If he wanted them to actually be amazed by him he had to do something amazing. Some children did linger and gasped when he tapped the top stair with his foot and the entire staircase went back into the island.

“Keep up now, Altair is an easy place to get lost in,” Malik told Desmond who nodded dumbly. Desmond followed after him but was openly staring at everything around them.

The smaller buildings didn’t have grand murals like the larger ones but were still decorated with brightly colored paint of flowers or fish or animals. They complimented the fact that most of the buildings had little plots out front of either grass filled with flowers or had been turned into gardens. Most buildings also had porches and people used the space as gathering areas to see friends or watch people walk the streets. The streets themselves were neatly ordered paving stones made of white granite with sidewalks of painted limestone. Of course the paint on the sidewalk was worn away in places but it was part of a festival every year for people to paint the sidewalks in front of their homes with things they wished to forget or forgive over the year so that foot traffic and rain would erode it from both the sidewalk and their minds. The deeper they got into the city the more magnificent the murals became. Those on the edges of the city often depicted basic landscapes or animals that could be seen easily from afar but deeper in the city the buildings had people painted on them or magnificently detailed landscapes. Some buildings, trying to one up their neighbors, commissioned murals done entirely in mosaic.

Desmond kept close to Malik. Osetalla had been Desmond’s first real venture in lots of people in one place but Altair was a teeming throng of people that moved about back and forth across the streets with ease. It was also loud as merchants called out wares or animals brayed from both pulling carts and from their stock holds. Deeper in the city the streets and sidewalks were filled with people with the city guard walking amid them in their deep red livery making sure things stayed orderly. The town Desmond had grown up in had been about two hundred or so people. Altair contained several tens of thousands of people and they all had places to go and things to do and you better not get in their way.

None of them got in Malik’s way. There was about a foot air bubble around him on all sides from people keeping a respectful distance from him so they didn’t bother him. The fact that he had a tall man in full western style plate armor didn’t even factor into it.

Eventually they made it to the temple and the crowds thinned. The temple complex itself was massive and made up of several domed buildings and nine minarets. The tallest minaret was perched atop the large central building in the middle of the complex and topped with a magnificent golden star many times larger than a man. Once the temple of Altair had also served as the palace of the king that ruled over Eagle by a perceived divine right. That had been put to an end when Malik had come to Eagle. Altair had literally kicked the ‘divine king’ out of his own palace and told them it would once more be his temple and that it would be home of his priest. Malik had been mortified at the time but now knew it was just Altair showing off to Malik and hoping Malik approved. Now the king lived in another palace across the city but had since dropped saying they were ‘divine’ since Malik was around to tell them to fuck off.

If the city of Altair was an exhibition in showing off the temple complex was then on a completely other level. Every inch was covered in mosaics made of both perfectly polished tile and gemstones and what wasn’t covered in mosaic was exquisite carvings of plants and animals painted in perfect, true to life, colors. Long ago one of Altair’s first priests had been a craftsman before Altair had found them and made the entire temple himself in Altair’s honor. It, of course, had sparked the first Eagle War with his siblings being too jealous of the beautiful temple and had found their own priests to worship them and because they naturally bickered anyway they used their priests as an extension of their own infighting. That had been the last time all gods of Eagle had had priests at the same time. It had been far before Malik’s time.

Desmond looked up at the huge temple in open wonder. “What is this? Is this the palace I’ve heard about?” he asked.

“Hmm? No. This is where I live,” Malik said.

Desmond looked at him so fast he nearly gave himself whip lash. “You _live here_?” he demanded.

“Yes, of course. This is the temple to Altair, in his city. Of course I live here,” Malik said. “C’mon now, we can rest here a bit before we continue on to your town.”

Desmond was still in shock but followed after Malik. The great courtyard that welcomed them led up to a set of perfect pink marble stairs into the largest building. Malik walked into the building and Desmond clanged behind him in his plate armor. Inside the biggest building it was mostly empty on the inside with a huge antechamber held up by columns of ancient tree trunks brought in from the north west and painted in the colors of dusk and dawn with thick gold bands wrapped around each one. At the back of the hall was a throne that had been there since the temple had been created as a place for Altair and had been later used by the king. Now it was the backdrop of an altar where a collection of people dressed in white and gold robes where kneeling in front of, praying. Altair’s clerics.

Malik gave them only a passing notice. Honestly he wanted to lay down in his bed for a little while and eat some real food. He hadn’t been back in Altair in weeks since Bezek had come to him on his little excursion to get away from these clerics.

The clerics heard the both of them and Desmond at least knew better than to ask things even though Malik was sure the boy was bursting with questions. As they walked past finally one of the clerics tried to stop them as they tried to make it back into the temple proper. “You there, you can’t- Oh. Malik,” they said.

Malik stopped only briefly. “Did you need something?”

The cleric got to their feet. The others lifted their heads to watch. “You were gone for some time and another star… well it, how to say-

“Yes, I made Tarazed go nova. Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“O-oh! Of course. Of course,” they swallowed and nervously adjusted their high collar. Malik saw fear in their eyes. “Ah… who is this? Is this the paladin we’ve heard about?”

“Paladin?” Desmond was as confused as Malik.

“This is Desmond, my sword bearer. We’ll be staying a few days, no more, and then I am taking him home.”

“Ah. I see. Well, everything was left for you.”

“Good. We’ll talk later, I am in need of a wash.”

“Oh! Of course. How thoughtless of me, you must be exhausted from your journey here. Don’t allow me to keep you any longer,” and the cleric bowed deeply to Malik and stepped away.

Desmond followed Malik when he started walking again. “Who was that?” Desmond whispered once they were away.

“An annoyance,” Malik rolled his eyes. Desmond didn’t ask anymore. Malik showed him to a cleric’s cell he could call his own and then went to his own quarters at the back of the temple that overlooked a vast and beautiful garden. There gardeners were gently tending to the flowers there in the midmorning light.

Malik entered the apartment that had once been the rooms of a king and before that other priests. It was huge and decadent made of perfectly smooth and light pine wood and covered in elegant paintings and wall scrolling. A pair of huge windows overlooked the garden and the floor was wood so shiny Malik could see his face in it. He’d lived here for the entire time he’d been in Eagle and it had taken him years to get used to the size of just how huge it was even now. The main sitting room was as large as his childhood home and his bedroom was nearly as big. There was also a library and an office and a training room and a bath with a pool so large he could actually swim in it. Ornate and perfectly placed pieces of art dotted the walls and potted plants hung from elaborate wrought iron hooks and were filled with flowering hanging vines.

Malik went to his bedroom and removed his armor and clothing all the way down. He was covered in dirt and sweat and smelled like an armpit. At the very least he hung up the armor and left the cloth in a basket he’d leave out front his door for washing. He just wanted to wash all this disgusting road dirt off himself and maybe wash off the feeling of regret that he had stabbed Tarazed. At least Altair hadn’t asked him to stab Alshain. He wasn’t sure if he could have actually done that.

Normally you were supposed to wash your body before getting into a bath tub but Malik really didn’t give a fuck today. He walked right into it with a pleased grin. Thanks partially to magic and partially to just genius engineering the bathing pool in the priest’s apartment always circulated perfectly warm water. Running water had since spread all across Eagle and Malik loved every moment of it. So much better than back in Rigel where he’d grown up where they didn’t have running water. Malik sunk down to his eyeballs into the pool and the water around him turned grey from the dirt. The flow of water pushed it away eventually and Malik grabbed soap to wash his hair and body. He ended up sitting on a seat that lined the edge of the pool feeling relaxed and good. He did doze off a little since it was very late for him with the sun almost at its apex.

When he woke he pulled himself out of the pool and dried himself off with a hand motion. His bed beckoned him and he crawled into it and promptly fell asleep.

He woke a bit after dusk and stretched before laying heavily back down on the bed. He looked up at the ceiling and wondered why the hell he’d woken up by himself. It took him several minutes to realize that this usually happened now but it hadn’t always been like this. Time moved faster the older you got and things that seemed to have just happened had been going on for a while. It used to be when he was in the city Altair would come down and Malik would often find him having crawled into his bed during the day.

Malik pushed himself up on one elbow. “Altair,” he said. “Altair, come here.” He waited but as time stretched on Altair didn’t come. “Really?” Malik asked, looking up at the ceiling which was painted with an elaborate mural of the Eagle constellation. “I know you’re awake, come here.” Malik waited some more but still Altair didn’t come. Malik lay back in the bed, annoyed, for several minutes before his stomach demanded he get up. He rolled out of bed and got dressed in some common clothes, one shoulder and part of his arm exposed from the how large the neck of the shirt was.

Once he was dressed he left his room and went to find Desmond. He found the kid in his cell, polishing his armor. Malik knocked and opened the door to see him doing that, “Hey,” he said. “Hungry?”

“Yes!” that was a trick question. Desmond was a tall kid, big too, he was always hungry. He put his armor away and jumped to his feet, following after Malik.

Malik showed him to one of the smaller buildings in the temple complex and the cook there bowed when they saw Malik. They’d just finished dinner for those who lived during the day but had breakfast ready for them in no time of well stuffed camdari shells of fragrant fruit paste and sweet raw quail yolk on top. The camdari shells crunched when you bit into them and Desmond only ate it because Malik did. They didn’t have camdari in the west, they only lived in the lake around Altair. Here it was local fare to have stuffed camdari for breakfast since they basically kept forever and were cheap to get but tasted great.

When breakfast was over Malik said, “We aren’t going to stay long. A day or so.”

“Just a day?” Desmond asked, deflated.

“Afraid so,” Malik nodded. “I’m sure your father misses you by now and you left with only telling your neighbors.” Desmond sighed. “I’ll have one of the clerics show you around Altair at least so-

Malik didn’t even flinch at the woosh of flame that sprang up in the building. Instead he just turned and looked at Altair, then looked down. “You burned _another_ ring in a lesser house, Altair,” he scolded him.

Altair looked down as well at the wooden floor. “Oh. My mistake,” he said and delicately took a step away from the singed floor boards.

“I called you this morning. Where were you?” Malik asked him.

“You called me?” Altair asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes. I did. Where were you?”

Altair looked very confused. Then he looked even more confused. Tarazed’s last words echoed in the back of his head as he said, “I don’t remember.” Then he shrugged. “No matter. Did you need something? I heard you say my name.”

Malik gave him a look, “I was speaking of the city.”

“Oh,” Altair frowned.

Malik slid out of his chair. “But since you’re here you might as well stay. One of your clerics is going to show Desmond around. I could use the company before we leave again.”

“Alright,” Altair nodded.

Desmond followed Malik out of the lesser house and he took Desmond to where the clerics were doing post dawn prayer. It was a simple matter of getting someone to show Desmond around the city. The head cleric looked like they wanted to speak to Malik but with Altair around they were all cowed and reserved. Malik was glad Altair was there. He really didn’t want to speak with these clerics. It was all ceremony with them. They just didn’t get it that Altair _hated_ ceremony. He didn’t want ceremony.

Malik went back to his quarters but didn’t go into them. Instead he walked out into the garden. Altair followed him and when he found a place to sit Malik just made the grass grow thicker so he didn’t have to sit on the dirt. Malik sighed contently as he leaned back on his elbows. “Feels like we haven’t done this for some time,” he said as Altair joined him.

“Done what?” Altair asked.

“Just been here,” he laid back. Between Malik hating staying in one place for long and Altair deciding he needed to go somewhere Malik rarely just stayed in the temple. Above the stars of Eagle twinkled, the shape of the wings filled in with a thousand lesser stars and nebula. There were two stars missing now. Altair didn’t say anything to him and just lay next to him. “Are you upset with me?” Malik asked him.

“What?” Altair asked.

“Are you angry with me?” Malik looked at him.

Altair looked very confused. “No. Why would you think that?”

“You never just come see me anymore,” Malik said. “Used to be you’d just come and spend the day with me, regardless of where I’d lay my head. Or you’d walk with me in the night. Have I done something?”

“What? No!” Altair pushed himself up some. “You haven’t angered me at all. Do I come across as such?”

“The last time you spent so much time away from me you were angry at me about Deneb,” he said. “Remember when you wouldn’t kiss me for a few decades?”

Altair’s face dropped a little. “Have I been so negligent?” he asked, more than a little stricken.

“Not as much,” Malik assured him. “I just miss you.”

Altair frowned at him. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“It just occurred to me that you aren’t with me all the time anymore,” he tugged a little on Altair’s deep red sleeve. “Happened so slowly I didn’t even notice. Where do you go at night?”

Altair stared at him. “Nowhere. I just…” he shrugged. “I have no good excuse for why I do not spend time with you.”

“Are you bored of me?” Malik asked.

“What! No. Never,” Altair said fiercely and to Malik’s great surprise Altair kissed him firmly. So hard it was more like smashing their faces together, pressing Malik’s nose down. Altair didn’t want Malik to get it into his head that Altair did not feel for him. It made him feel a bit better honestly. “You are mine. Only mine and I love you dearly,” Altair said, holding Malik’s face in both hands. “Do not ever think anything other than that,” he said firmly.

Malik smiled a little. “Alright,” he said. He reached up to touch Altair’s face and he kissed Malik again. This one wasn’t so fierce and was sweet and kind. When they parted he said, “I still miss you, though. We’re leaving tomorrow. I want you to come with us.”

“Us? Who’s us?”

“That boy who made my sword. I’m taking him home to his father now.”

“Ah,” Altair nodded. He was hesitant than he nodded, “Yes. I’ll do that. I’ll come with you. It has been a while,” he admitted.

“Good,” Malik said. “I missed you.”

“I’m sorry for that,” Altair said. “That was not… my intention.” Malik just nodded and smiled again when Altair kissed him.

—

The next night Malik met a very exhausted Desmond in front of the temple. He’d stayed up half the day to see Altair when more people were about and was tired from not as much rest as he was used to. He was in his full armor again, the last of the sun’s afterglow making it sort of sparkle and the eagle motifs burned the color of the sunset. Altair had gone off and said he’d rejoin the two when they left the city. He wasn’t interested in having to walk through the city if he couldn’t help it.

“You ready to go home?” he asked Desmond.

“No,” Desmond sighed. “The city is… amazing. Like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he lamented. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

“Heh. Yes. Though I’m sure your father will be happy to see you’ve returned home safe.”

“I suppose,” then Desmond realized something. “Where’s the sword?

“I left it in my quarters,” Malik said and started off, his talismans jingling as he walked. “I don’t have need of it now.”

“Oh… do you still think it’s evil?”

“It killed a god, Desmond. It is an evil thing. I don’t need to carry it with me everywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Desmond said.

“It isn’t your fault. You didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t even feel its energy. There is no reason to be sorry.”

“You’re very understanding, Malik,” Desmond said.

Malik glanced up at the Eagle in the sky. “I find it better to be understanding than to act rashly or to blame people for things they have no control over. So I prefer understanding and acceptance.” Malik didn’t say that it also made it easier to not feel so guilty for the things he’d done this way. It was easy to let guilt consume you. It was harder but better to face it with understanding and acceptance. That he’d done horrible things. He didn’t let it consume him. It would have been easy to do so. There was so _much_ blood on Malik’s hands. He decided accepting it was better way to handle it.

They made it out of Altair with only minor distractions from Desmond. Where they went Malik would sometimes hear a muttered ‘paladin’. He didn’t stop to correct them. Like before they walked along the bottom of the lake with some mark magic and ended up on the western shore.

“So, where is he?” Desmond asked Malik.

“He’ll show up. He wants us to be away from the city before that happens,” Malik said and just started walking.

“Why doesn’t Altair want to be seen? Surely if people saw him walking about so many misgivings from the Eagle War would be forgiven. At least by the people,” Desmond said. “Just so they knew he wasn’t angry with us.”

Malik looked at Desmond as they walked. “It isn’t my place to tell Altair what to do, or yours.”

“I know. But why doesn’t he?”

“He doesn’t like being seen. He’s odd like that. Bezek enjoys walking the fields so people know the harvests will be good. Altair’s not like that. He’s private.”

“Oh.”

They walked in silence but Malik still thought about what he’d said. Altair hadn’t always been that way. He’d once accompanied Malik everywhere. No one recognized him of course because he so rarely came down from the sky before. He did his best to remember the past century. When he’d first arrived in Eagle Altair had rarely been up in the sky and as the decades passed he’d spent more and more time there. Now he spent most of his time there and only rarely came down to the earth.

Around midnight when they stopped to rest and eat Altair appeared in a tower of flame. At first Malik thought it was someone else. Like Thailmain or Tseen Foo since he was dressed head to toe in black with a deep hood. Thailmain always dressed in black and indigo the rare times he came to the ground. He was the only one who didn’t care that Malik had destroyed his city. He wasn’t interested in the goings on of Eagle. “Sorry I came so late,” Altair’s voice came from the hood and that was how Malik knew it was him. Malik frowned.

“What was the issue?” Malik asked him.

“Nothing,” Altair said and joined them around the little fire, mainly to help Desmond see in the dark. Even in the light Altair looked like the void shaped like a man. There wasn’t even a drop of color or light on him and Malik had trouble seeing the top of his face.

He pulled Altair’s hood back some so he could see him better. For a second he swore Altair looked angry, pupils hissing white before it was gone. “What are you wearing?”

Altair looked down like to make sure he was dressed. “Clothes?” he asked.

Across the fire Desmond was just watching, slowly eating his meal. “You almost done, Desmond?” Malik asked him. Desmond nodded, mouth full but hands empty. “Alright. Let’s be off then,” Malik said and got up. He kicked the fire and it snuffed out, scattering apart in an instant with more force than his boot could muster. Desmond’s armor clinked as he got to his feet and picked up his things.

It was dark now without the fire, the moon only a fat wax crescent, and Altair’s form looked darker still when he stood up next to Malik. “Malik if you keep making that face it’s going to get stuck like that,” Altair said and put his hands on Malik’s face, using his thumbs to smooth out Malik’s frown and furrowed eyebrows. He hadn’t even realized he’d been frowning.

“And what if I want wrinkles?” Malik asked him but didn’t push Altair’s hands away.

Altair cocked his head to the side, “I don’t know why you’d want to look old,” he said.

Malik rolled his eyes and just started walking. Altair kept pace with him and Desmond followed behind in the darkness. “After this do you need me to go anywhere?” Malik asked him.

“No,” Altair said. “Why?”

“Because I think I will stay in the city a while. I want you to stay with me as well.”

Altair didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “Is this about last night?” he asked, at last, his voice coming out of the man shaped darkness that Malik knew too well to be afraid of.

“Yes,” Malik said and reached out to grab Altair’s hand. “I miss you.”

That eased whatever worry was in Altair’s chest because he leaned over and kissed Malik on the cheek. “Alright.”

They talked some as they walked but of nothing of import. Desmond mostly asked them questions about the city and what it was like and who lived there and how it sustained itself out in the middle of the lake. Malik answered as best he could but it wasn’t really something he knew a lot about. He was literally at the top of the pyramid as far as class was concerned. He didn’t even bother to think about how things were dealt with below him. It was classist but Malik had once been nothing from another town who didn’t appreciate him and had earned the affection of a literal _god_. Why the hell would he worry about how a city was supplied anymore?

As the sun started to rise Malik heard Desmond’s yawns become more frequent. Not nearly as wide as Altair’s. “You’re so dramatic,” he scolded the both of them.

“The sun is up, I'm tired,” Altair said as the stars started to dim overhead.

Malik rolled his eyes. “We're almost to a town.”

“Good, then I don't need to stay,” and before Malik could say anything Altair disappeared in a gout of fire. Malik glared at the singe mark on the ground.

“He always do that?” Desmond asked.

“What? Act like a baby about the sun? Yes,” Malik huffed. “We are almost someplace we can rest so let's get going and we can sleep in a bed tonight.”

“Okay,” Desmond said and followed Malik. “Malik, can I ask… what's it like?”

“What's what like?”

“Having the attention of a God?”

“Sometimes it's very annoying,” Malik huffed. 

“You don't mean that.”

“Sometimes I do. But it's nice, I suppose. I never want for anything. Even if Altair didn't exist I'd always have what I needed because of my power. It is nice having a city to call my own.”

“I hope this isn't too intrusive but… where are you from, Malik? You don't look anything like the people of Eagle save for your darker complexion shared by us.”

“I come from a very far away place, Desmond. Out beyond the Cloud Rift where each town worships its own star and each town is part of its own chain so we looked like constellations strung across the land when you looked at a map.”

“Wow, that sounds so different,” he frowned a little. “I can't imagine a land like that,” he admitted. “It's too much. That there is a place not watched over by the Eagle and our nine gods… well, seven now I guess,” he frowned. “I know there are other gods but I was taught they were dangerous, violent, horrible things. That only because of the Cloud Rift created by the Eagle are we kept safe and secluded from them.”

Yes, Malik had been hearing that teaching slowly emerge over the past hundred years. It troubled him that it coincided with Altair becoming more and more distant from him. “They are dangerous,” Malik said. “But gods are not violent towards humans. We are too insignificant to them. They enjoy when we are violent because they are by nature and that's why we sacrifice to them. Or rather, why men do.” Women didn't have to give blood to the gods. They gave blood once a month. That was their sacrifice while men had to prove themselves that they could give blood of equal worth to them.

“Hmmm,” Desmond said and had much to think about. They finished the way to the town to Desmond's pensive silence. Malik purchased them a pair of rooms and dinner at the local inn, or rather a breakfast they ate as dinner. The innkeeper was very polite and tried not to take Malik’s money until he _insisted_. He took it then because good manners was well and good but you didn’t want to actually anger the priest.

After dinner Malik retired early though Desmond stayed awake to speak to the inn keeper and others who were too nervous to speak to Malik. How funny that they were more comfortable talking to a young man in full plate than they were speaking to Malik with his more light weight armor that looked more like clothes than actual armor. Malik just made himself some tea before sleep and slept deeply into the day, keeping the shutters and curtains closed tightly against the brightness of the sun outside.

When Malik slept he dreamed of the sun. The sun sat in a blue sky full of clouds. Twilight came and darkness crept across the sky but the sun remained where it was in the dark sky with the moon as company. There were no stars and it was just those two points of greater light in the sky. He watched the sun crack like a pane of glass and shatter into a thousand different little diamonds.

He woke up and the sun was setting. He blinked from his pillow and yawned widely. The dream was already slipping away. All he remembered was that he dreamed of the sun.It was an odd dream. It wasn’t like he didn’t see the sun anymore. He yawned again and stretched his arms above him. He heard things going on below on the street and pushed himself up to lean on the sill. He pushed the shutter open and looked down onto the street. Desmond was down there in his padding he wore under his armor, dragging a man along by the scruff. There were some people gathered around the entrance of the inn speaking in hushed tones of concern.

“Oi!” Malik called out to him.

Desmond turned and looked up. “Oh, Malik. Sorry for waking you,” Desmond called back up to him.

“What’re you doing?” Malik pushed himself further out the window. The setting sun made the shadows long.

Desmond looked down at the man. He wasn’t struggling. “Local was getting out of hand. Guess you didn’t hear him. Bit too much ale.”

Malik cocked his head at Desmond. “Where you taking him?”

“Back to where he comes from,” was all Desmond said.

“Mmm.” Malik pulled himself the rest of the way out of the window and there were a few startled yelps when Malik jumped out of the window and landed lightly on the ground just under it. He made a surprising appearance still dressed for bed and having jumped out of the window. Malik gave the man in Desmond’s hand a second look. He had a beautiful shiner on the left side of his face and was unconscious. The inn keeper was there and Malik turned to him. “That true?” he asked them.

“Lester’s known to cause a ruckus,” the innkeeper nodded. “Better to just get him drunk enough so he passes out from the drink than argue with him.”

“And what happened now?”

“He was drunk, causing a scene with my maid when the young paladin came downstairs to see what was going on. He tried to peacefully get Lester to leave and… well, he didn’t right like that. There was an altercation.”

“Did that altercation involve Lester getting punched?”

“He deserved it, Malik,” Desmond said from where he was still standing in his armor padding.

Malik ignored him. “Yes. It did,” the innkeeper said.

“This happens often?”

“Yes.”

“Lester’s a drunk? Known problem?” The innkeeper hesitated. “You can tell me. I’m a priest.”

“He is a problem. Can’t keep a job, lives out in a hovel outside of town. Any money he does get he comes and spends in my inn on drink. Dunno how he gets the money. Suspect he plays a highwayman during the day. Don’t ask,” they shrugged. “He used to be a nice fellow. Just snapped a few years ago and became a drunk. Not sure why.”

Malik frowned and turned away. He walked over to Desmond and crouched in front of Lester. “Let him go,” he said.

“Malik I was protecting myself-

“I know. I’m not angry with you. Now let him go.” 

Desmond frowned but obeyed. Malik caught him by the face with two hands. “Wake up,” he said. Lester woke with a start and immediately went swinging. Malik just glanced at his hand and it and his entire body froze. “Hello Lester,” he said.

“The fuck you?” Lester asked.

“My name’s Malik. I’m the priest of Eagle. I heard you’ve been causing some trouble for your town and neighbors. That true?”

“S’what?” Lester slurred a little.

Malik gave him a little tap on the cheek. “Speak right,” he said firmly. “And know who you speak to.”

Lester’s eyes cleared of alcohol. He blinked and looked up at Malik. “Priest,” he said with complete clarity.

“Yes, I am,” Malik stood up, keeping his hands on either side of Lester’s head. Lester moved to his knees, head tipped up to Malik. “Now Lester. The innkeeper has told me you’ve been very bad lately, causing trouble, robbing from people. That true?”

“N-no-

“Do not lie to me,” Malik said sweetly, his hands warming dangerously.

“… Yeah. I been robbin’,” he said.

“Well you’re going to stop. You’re going to stop drinking too. This town doesn’t need you as a problem. Whatever happened to you years ago to make you like this I am sorry for. It must have been something terrible and you surely didn’t deserve it. But this behavior is unacceptable in this town, in Bezek, and in Eagle.” He lifted one hand off Lester’s face and drew a mark on his forehead in the shape of a stylized eye. Lester’s eyes watered as it burned his skin with a warm glow. “If I see you disrupting this place again, bothering the maid in the inn, out robbing or drinking too much this will know. You think the black eye the paladin gave you hurts now? The mark will make sure you stay on the straight. Do we have an accord?”

“Y-yes priest,” he stammered.

“Good,” Malik said. “I’m glad.” Malik released his face and Lester scrambled away, touching his forehead. There was no physical mark, his forehead was totally smooth. Instead his fingers passed across the mark drawn in light. “Desmond, go back inside. We’re going to be leaving after breakfast and I don’t want to take too long.”

“Yes, Malik,” Desmond said. He still sent a dirty look at Lester before going back into the inn. The sun had finished setting by now and the world was a collection of shadows and darkness at the edges.

Malik went over to the innkeeper again. “He shouldn’t be a bother now. I do apologize for the trouble he’s caused.”

“It- it- thank you kindly, priest,” they said.

Malik just smiled a little. “Desmond and I will require a meal before we leave. I’m going to get dressed and would like it to be ready.”

“Of course!”

Malik walked past and into the inn. The rest of the early evening patrons all looked like they’d hastily returned to their seats and were doing their best to not stare at Malik. He ignored them and went upstairs to the room he’d rented. He finished getting dressed and when he came back downstairs he found Desmond still in his armor padding surrounded by people who were asking him about what Malik had done. Malik cleared his throat loudly and everyone darted away. He and Desmond found a seat and food was brought immediately.

“You do that normally?” Desmond asked him.

“When I have to,” Malik said, eating without pause.

“So you’ve done it before?”

“Mhm. It’s not Eagle magic. Not really at least. I just adapted Eagle style magic for my purposes.”

“What do you mean it’s not Eagle magic?”

“Well; it’s a curse,” Malik said candidly. “Not big on curses in Eagle. It’s more a town chain thing. My brother told me about curses. They’re not _quite_ magic so alchemists could use them.”

“Oh… what’s an alchemist?”

“Like a cleric or paladin,” was Malik’s explanation. Desmond looked thoughtful. “That it?” he asked when Desmond didn’t ask anymore.

“Yes? Was I supposed to ask something else?”

“Most people are surprised I have a brother and ask.”

“You’ve been in Eagle a long time Malik,” Desmond said. “I’m not going to ask you about your dead brother, that seems insensitive.”

Malik chuckled. “Smart boy,” Malik agreed.

They finished their breakfast and Desmond went to go put on his armor and get his things. Malik followed suit and gathered up his pack and things. He had to wait for Desmond outside in the early evening. As he did he looked up and east a bit to see the Eagle in the sky. It looked like a crippled bird and Malik frowned. Desmond appeared before he could dwell too much. “All set?” Malik asked him.

“Yes,” Desmond nodded. “Where’s… uh, our friend?” Malik smiled a little. Desmond didn’t want to speak Altair’s name so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

“He’ll join us once we leave the town,” Malik assured him. He glanced back at Eagle and saw Altair still up in the heavens. Desmond followed Malik out of the town.

“Malik,” Desmond said once they were out of the town and alone on the road. Malik grunted to show he was listening. “What was Bezek like? Before I mean?”

“I prefer not to talk about it,” Malik said.

“Right, of course. Sorry,” Desmond stammered. Then he ventured again, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you do it?”

Malik looked at him, “You will not like the answer. You sure you want it?”

“Yes,” Desmond said. “Everyone always talks about it. Even in my hometown people wonder about it. There was never an Eagle War like that one.”

“And there won’t be again,” Malik said firmly. Desmond nodded. “I did it because Altair told me to,” he said. Desmond’s pace slowed a little but Malik didn’t wait for him. If the kid needed a moment to work through that he could do it alone. As he thought Desmond didn’t like the answer.

As they walked Altair joined them and made up to pace with Malik. “Morning,” he said in greeting. He was in deep reds today, so bruised and dark they were practically purple. There was a fine pattern in the fabric made of gold and light that draped low over part of his chest showing off his collar and left shoulder under which he wore a black and grey patterned shirt. He wore a kufi that was pitch black with little red triangles along the bottom and Malik considered that an improvement over the hood.

“You look nice this morning,” Malik said.

Altair’s pretty amber eyes brightened a little, shifting to more gold a moment, and he smiled. “You think so?”

“Yes. Very northern of you. You visiting your sister before you came or something?” He of course meant Alshain. Before the Eagle War she and Altair had been very close. It was as close to what stars could get to to twins.

“Hmm? No. I haven’t seen her in some decades,” Altair said, he didn’t even sound sad about it. The slight smile Malik wore dropped.

“Maybe we should visit her when we’re done here,” Malik said.

Altair grimaced, “Let’s not.” Malik didn’t say anything to that and eventually Desmond caught up with them again. He was still curious about things around Eagle and Malik was a perfect resource. 

They walked all night and in the morning Altair left them and Malik found them another town to sleep in for the day. The next evening was less adventurous than the previous but when Malik woke up the next morning he found Desmond was gone. His things were still in the room but the armor was gone. Malik didn’t bother with his own armor and just wore more comfortable clothes to go look for him.

He found Desmond down the block helping with some sort of disagreement of some sort. He just stood there in his big armor, arms folded. No one noticed Malik approach and he looked rather unassuming outside of his own armor and lacking any signifiers that he was a priest unless you knew what he looked like. The two people in the argument were doing so over the ownership of a litter of puppies. The bitch belonged to one and the male, belonging to the other party, had gotten her pregnant on accident but the person wanted ownership of some of the puppies since they were good sheep dog stock.

Desmond listened to both of them for a few more minutes before lifting his gauntlet covered hand. They quieted immediately. “Finus has to pay for the upkeep of the puppies since Jaren is the one keeping them and making sure they’re healthy. Since he’s paying for their food and any calls to the veterinarian in the town over he gets two of them when they’re old enough to be separated from their mother.”

“That isn’t-

“Would you rather I side more with Jaren on this one?” Desmond asked him. “You could get nothing since you didn’t control your dog and if anything you should have to pay for them anyway for inconveniencing Jaren so much getting his best dog pregnant during the busy season for him and good sheep dogs are not cheap to buy or breed. Now you can take the offer or fuck off. Makes no difference to me,” Desmond said firmly.

Finus looked at Jaren, frowned, and muddled it over. “Fine,” he huffed. He extended a hand.

“Knew we could have an understanding,” Jaren said and shook it firmly. “I’ll send you any bills.” Finus grimaced but didn’t disagree. The two men walked off.

“That was interesting,” Malik said and Desmond, bulky armor and all, jumped and spun towards Malik. “What was that about?”

“They were arguing in the street and someone came inside and got me. Said it wasn’t important enough to bother a priest over but a paladin could weigh in.” Then, suddenly shy, he said, “I don’t think I’m one of those really.”

“Altair isn’t… really a paladin sort of star,” Malik said apologetically. “He has clerics but he isn’t really into the whole organized religion thing. He enjoys worship but on a more personal basis.”

“I figured that since he’s so secluded. But I… well I wasn’t going to say _no_ when people needed some help before the argument grew into an actual fight.”

“Of course,” Malik said nicely. “You did good,” he patted Desmond’s big shoulder. “Let’s go get some breakfast and get out of here. Hmm?” Desmond nodded and followed Malik back to the inn. They ate, Malik changed into his armor, and they left the town. That night Altair came in deep pinks and indigo in a southern style of loose and billowing clothes that covered every inch of skin including the top of his head with a loose hood held in place with a gleaming headband across his forehead made of starlight.

They found a new town before morning came. “I should-

“Stay, please,” Malik said when Altair acted like he was going to leave already. “It’s dark yet, you aren’t even tired.”

Altair pulled a face but nodded. Despite being so early some things were open already and people were moving to go about this business and start their work for the day. Malik felt a little bad waking the inn keeper so early. If you could call it an inn really. There wasn’t even a tavern attached. It was literally just the biggest building in the town and rented out spare rooms to tired travelers. He had Desmond get the rooms since he knew Altair would draw attention. This far west and north no one wore loose southern clothing and most wore three quarter sleeves with shirts that buttoned along the side of the chest. Left for women, right for men. They were closer to Desmond’s home town now and would arrive at it in another night or so. This town marked where the river ended in a large, deep, lake. Not as big as the lake surrounding the city of Altair, but it was plenty big.

Desmond came back, his face rosy and flustered from something or another. “Everything go alright?” he asked Desmond.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, went fine,” Desmond nodded. “My accent surprised them, that’s all.”

“Why would it? You’re from Bezek,” Malik said, confused. Desmond grimaced and glanced at Altair who wasn’t paying him any mind. “Oh,” Malik said knowingly with a nod. They hadn’t expected a ‘paladin’ to sound like one of their own.

“They were really nice,” Desmond continued. “Surprised we were stopping here when there’s a city so close. Just round the lake bend she said.”

“Because this lazy one here doesn’t walk in the daylight,” Malik said. Desmond’s eyes got huge when Malik roughly grabbed Altair under his chin by both cheeks with one hand and gave his head a soft shake.

“Ah! Malik,” Altair huffed, yanking his face out of Malik’s hold. “You’re so rude.”

“You’ll forgive me,” was all Malik said.

“And I can’t help I have trouble staying awake in the light. I’ve literally had that sleep cycle for tens of thousands of years,” he rolled his eyes. “You thought becoming nocturnal was difficult,” he scoffed.

“C’mon, Desmond got us a place to sleep.” Altair ‘hmmd’ and followed after him. There was no one in sight when they walked to a side door and were greeted by a short hallway with doors. 

Desmond showed them to one, gave Malik the key and he opened it. “I uh… only got two rooms.”

“That’s fine,” Malik said. Altair gave a noise of protest when Malik shoved him into the room and closed the door with a solid click. Malik held the door knob even as he felt Altair try to turn it. “You didn’t give them all my cash did you?”

“No,” Desmond said. “They gave me a deal,” he flushed, “Since I’m from Bezek. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that that I’m from the north side of the river.” That made Malik chuckle.

“This is a strange river,” Malik agreed. It made the border between Bezek and Tseen Foo and was often both the provinces and neither of them. Most other provinces had less easily distinguished borders but the divide in their people was greater. Where Bezek and Tseen Foo met the border divide was very clear cut but the people were nearly identical. Malik held his hand out palm up. Desmond dropped his change into it. Unlike back where he’d been born where the coins were round the coins in Eagle were all different shapes so you could tell what you held by feel alone in your pocket. “And it was just that they thought you were from Bezek?”

Desmond grimaced, knowing he’d been caught in the lie, and in a low tone said, “They said they’d feel bad if they charged a paladin full price. I… didn’t tell them otherwise.”

“I’m glad you were truthful with me.”

“I don’t like lying but—“ he looked at the door. Altair had given up trying to open the door and had gone off to investigate the room. “They’re just stories you know.” He shrugged. “I’m gonna settle in. The owner said we were welcome to join them for breakfast down in the dining room in an hour.”

“We’ll be there,” Malik said. Desmond nodded and awkwardly retreated to his room next door. Malik opened the door to Altair lounging on the bed, entertaining himself with magic, bored already. “I left you alone for less than five minutes,” Malik huffed.

“Felt like forever,” Altair said.

Malik went over to the bed and took a knee on it. “You’re one to talk when you spend so much time away from me.”

“I do?” Altair seemed confused. His brows drew down over his eyes. “Do I?” he asked Malik.

_Something is wrong with him._ Malik couldn’t help but think Tarazed’s madness filled last words. “No,” he lied. “I just am needy is all,” Malik leaned down and kissed him. Despite not being cold yet it still warmed him from the inside out like Malik had just taken a shot of strong alcohol that didn’t burn his throat. “Breakfast is in an hour, I’m going to take a bath.”

“Is that an open invitation or are you just telling me?” Altair asked, eyeing him.

“I dunno. Have you been ignoring me or not?” Malik asked and left him there. Malik went to the bathroom down the hall and drew himself a bath of cold water, turning it hot with a bit of simple magic. He was soaking in the water when the door opened a little and a pair of amber eyes peered in through the crack. Malik acted like he didn’t see him. He looked up, not moving his head when a pair of arms came around his shoulders and down the front of his chest. Altair’s long sleeves pooled in the water turning dark in the water, the dark color running up his arms turning the sunset pink almost the color of blood.

“Malik, you know I love you, right?” Altair said.

When you feel like it, Malik thought but didn’t _dare_ say it. “Yes,” Malik said.

“Good,” Altair said moving his hands down Malik’s torso. For a split second his hands were unkind, the perfectly manicured nails digging into his stomach. It was so brief Malik was sure he’d imagined it because Altair nuzzled his neck and pressed a kiss against his jaw. Altair eventually joined him in the tub.

They were in there until there was a knock on the door. “Malik? You in there?” Desmond called.

“Yes, what is it?” he called back.

“‘Breakfast is ready.”

“Mmm. Be down in a moment,” Malik said and heard Desmond walk away. “You going to join us for breakfast sleepy head?” he teased Altair who was already dozing against his chest.

“If it means I have to get up from here, no,” Altair said, as cranky as a child.

Malik chuckled. “Well _I’m_ hungry. So get up, I want to go have dinner.” He pushed Altair off him despite him complaining and whining. Malik wasn’t impressed by that and got out of the bath. He snapped his fingers and dried the water off his body and ran a hand through his hair to give a bit more attention to drying it so it didn’t get all frizzy and puffy. He gathered up his clothes, pulling on the long undershirt and left the bathroom back to his room. He dressed casually and went downstairs to the dining room where Desmond was already there with the tired from waking so early in the morning family of the boarding house owner. He sat down next to Desmond.

“He’s not joining us?” Desmond asked him.

“No. You know how moody he gets in the morning,” Malik rolled his eyes a little.

“I guess,” Desmond grinned a little. The table was fairly quiet for breakfast. The children of the owner stared at Malik and Desmond the entire time but had probably been told very sternly to not ask questions or bother the priest and ‘paladin’ during breakfast. Malik was just happy to have some quiet honestly.

Towards the end of the meal the teenage daughter looked towards the door and her eyes got wide. She dropped her fork with a clatter on the plate, mouth falling open. Malik looked where she was staring. “Oh my!” the lady of the house cried.

“Really?” Malik asked Altair, unamused. Altair was standing in the doorway, naked as could be, too lazy to even have magicked himself dry and simply was allowing his natural heat to evaporate the water from his skin. It caused his body to steam a little.

“What?”

“Put on some damn clothes, Altair!”

Altair looked down at his nakedness. “Oh. Knew I forgot something. Ah well,” he didn’t do it anyway. The man had covered his daughter’s eyes by now. Not that Malik exactly _blamed_ her. Altair was a perfect male specimen.

“Altair, put on some clothes before you make everyone uncomfortable.”

“So?” he asked. “I’m Altair, I can do whatever I want. Besides, this is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened here in a while,” he said with an infuriating smirk.

Before Malik could do anything Desmond got up from the table. He grabbed the edge of the table cloth and Malik was actually impressed when with a sharp yank he pulled the cloth out from under all the tableware without disturbing a single glass. He walked over to Altair and wrapped it around his waist. “Your holiness, it’s improper for young people to see a man like this.”

“Well, luckily for them I’m not _really_ a man,” Altair said. Then he realized what had just happened and gave Desmond a scrutinized, puzzled, look.

Malik had his face in his hand at this point. He sighed and pulled it away and down his face. “I apologize,” he said. “I assure you he’s usually much more… grand than this juvenile behavior.”

“That- that’s-“ they finally seemed to get it. The lady promptly fainted and Malik caught her.

“Desmond, be a good lad and take him out of here, please,” Malik said.

“Malik I don’t-

“Just figure it out,” Malik groaned.

“Uh—“ Desmond swallowed. “If you could stop inconveniencing your priest that’d be great. We just wanted dinner.”

“Whatever,” Altair said and walked out of the room. Desmond glanced at Malik before following after Altair nervously.

Malik still had his arms full of the lady of the house. “I really apologize,” he said sincerely to the man.

“That was really him?”

“That really was Altair, head god of Eagle, yes,” Malik said. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Malik groaned when he fainted too. “And what about you three? You going to faint too?” he asked the children. There were two teenagers, a boy and girl a few years apart in age, and a younger boy.

The little boy shook his head, not quite knowing how to react to two fainted parents but looked about to cry because he didn’t know what to do. “He doesn’t always walk around without clothes on?” the girl asked.

“No.”

“Too bad,” she said. That surprised Malik so much he almost let go of her mother when he laughed.

“And you?” he asked the teenage boy.

“I think I like men now.”

“He has that effect, yes,” Malik couldn’t help but agree. He hadn’t really liked men before Altair either. “Why don’t you help me get your folks somewhere comfortable hmm?” He nodded and got up to help Malik. Once both parents had been placed somewhere comfortable Malik left the children to deal with them. He just said they’d be staying the day and leaving at sunset and not to worry about dinner.

Malik found Altair already passed out on his bed still wearing the tablecloth and Desmond had obviously retreated to his own room by now. Malik went over to the bed and got in but didn’t lay down. Instead he grabbed Altair’s face in both hands and played with his cheeks until he woke up. Which he did with an annoyed whining sound.

“What?” Altair whined, batting at Malik a little.

“You are so annoying,” Malik said.

Altair opened one eye. “I should smite you for that.”

“No you won’t,” Malik gave him a look. “Why did you do that downstairs?”

“Because I could,” Altair finally pushed Malik’s hands away. “Now come to bed. I’m tired,” he yawned widely.

“Why must you be so difficult, Altair?”

“I’m not. I just don’t care. There’s a difference,” Altair grumbled and snuggled back into the pillow. Malik huffed at him and took off some of his clothes. He joined Altair in the bed and Altair snuggled against him.

“You made that young man gay you know,” he said idly.

“Wouldn’t be the first young man I’ve done that to,” Altair said, eyes half open. Malik felt himself flush. No it wouldn’t be since he’d done the same thing to Malik. Jerk. “Now shush, the sun is well up and it’s late. Go to sleep,” he put a finger gently on Malik’s lips. Malik rolled his eyes and wasn’t surprised when Altair fell asleep immediately. Malik fell asleep shortly after.

At sunset they set out. They probably wouldn’t reach Desmond’s home that day but definitely the next. Desmond didn’t seem pleased about it. No, Malik supposed not. When he got home it’d be the end of his adventure.

When they stopped for the midnight meal Altair didn't join them by the fire right away. Instead he stood out in the darkness looking up but at nothing Malik could see. Malik started a pot of tea while Desmond went off to find a rabbit burrow or something because he was tired of cold food during the midnight meal. Altair came back before Desmond and sat next to Malik, leaning against him while Malik waited for his tea to steep and was rummaging in his pack for his rations.

When Desmond came back with a rabbit Altair sat up and watched him. He had a strange look in his amber eyes. Desmond took off some of his armor, mainly the chest plate and the gauntlets before skinning and gutting the animal. Then he looked around for a stick before Malik just used a bit of magic to make it slowly spin in place above the fire to cook. “Good job,” Malik said.

Desmond shrugged, “Was tired of jerky and hardtack,” he said.

“Heh, yeah,” Malik agreed.

“Where did you get that armor?” Altair asked him suddenly.

“Hmm? My father made it. It's his finest work. Really pulled out all the stops for it,” Desmond said proudly.

“Not the sword I had him make?”

“... He didn't make it. I made it. He didn't know how to work the metal but I did.”

“So that's why it took so long,” Altair said. He was still staring at Desmond and the kid was starting to fidget from the scrutiny. “So you stole your father's prized armor and went with Malik to Aquilae. Doesn't sound like the thing a good son does.”

“Altair,” Malik scolded him.

“No, it's okay,” Desmond said. “But well… this is _my_ armor. My father made it for me. I figured if I was going to go on an adventure with Altair's priest out into the dark of night I should be dressed for it.” He patted the pieces on the ground and it clattered a little.

“Why'd your father make you something you'd never actually wear? Especially shaped like that?” Altair asked. Malik was confused by that.

“They were my favorite story growing up,” Desmond said shyly. “He made it when I was thirteen, supposedly for ‘when I was older’ but there's no use for this armor.”

“What story?” Malik asked.

“You don't know?” Desmond asked.

“I'm a transplant here. I don't know all the songs and stories of Eagle there are,” Malik said. “Just as you wouldn't if you went to live in the town chains for years.”

“It’s in the style of paladin armor. A very, very, long time ago, back when Eagle Wars were a bit more common there were a group of people in Eagle,” Altair said. “They were known as the Convocation.”

“I swear you people take your bird shit too seriously,” Malik huffed.

Altair gave him a stern look. “This is new to you?”

“Oh stars no,” Malik said. “I'm just saying is all. I don’t really know a lot about the paladins. The clerics speak of them sometimes but I always got the feeling it wasn’t something they wished to talk about.”

“They were knights,” Desmond said. “And star champions. Not like priests are though. They weren't chosen by the stars. But they satisfied their—” he realized what he'd been about to say and who was sitting across from him at the fire.

“You can say it. The Convocation satisfied our vanity,” Altair said. “None of us were under any impressions that they didn't start off as a means to stroke our egos to improve things in Eagle or gain favors.”

“Oh… well, with them around there weren't as many Eagle Wars because they fought each other instead. Sometimes they killed each other and it was entertaining. They also tried to make Eagle a better place. They fell out of favor a few hundred years ago but we still talk about them all the time in Tseen Foo since there was a very famous one from there, legendary even. His name was Rami and they say he could walk on water and planted ten thousand pine trees that make up the Green Trim. He was a great warrior and fought in a lot of mock wars for Tseen Foo. He never lost a single fight. Well except one,” Desmond frowned a little. “But all the provinces have paladin stories. There were a lot.”

“Any for you?” Malik asked Altair.

“For my entertainment? Yes.” Altair was practically dismissive of them. “I had a hundred. They weren't like clerics or alchemists. They didn't pretend to know the stars. They knew what we were and appeased us the way we wanted.”

“So why did your father make you armor you'd never wear if paladins are all gone?” Malik asked Desmond.

He was more than a little flustered about the question. “I just… Rami is an old hero but people still tell his stories. I liked his stories. I always said when I was a grown up I wanted to be like Rami. That's obviously impossible since the paladins are all gone but I was too little to understand that. My father made this anyway to show off and as a present, though he never intended me to wear it. It's supposed to look like Rami’s armor from the stories.” He looked at Altair but Altair didn't say anything.

“That… is such a strange thing to me,” Malik said. “And nice that your father would encourage your interests. Mine didn't understand mine.”

“No?” Desmond asked, seemingly anything to not talk about himself anymore.

“He was a potter. It was a big thing in my home town. It sat near a huge clay deposit that made very fine ceramic. I don't have very artistic hands. They hold a sword better than work a wheel. Doesn't matter now,” he shrugged. “Now let's have that rabbit. Smells good. Looks done.”

“Oh, yeah sure,” Desmond said and Malik deposited the rabbit down somewhere where Desmond could cut it better.

Between the two of them they ate it without hassle. Altair just leaned against Malik, watching Desmond the entire time. It made Desmond uncomfortable and shy away from Altair's eyes. He didn't say anything, he just looked at Desmond. When they finished Malik rerolled his tea ball and they picked up their camp. Desmond put on his armor awkwardly and Malik pushed Altair off him so he could get his things together. They got up and Desmond followed after Malik. 

They stopped for the day along the river but not at a town. Altair was complaining too much about the amount of people so it was probably for the best. They ate dinner but before they'd finished Altair was already curled up next to Malik. Malik got him to wake up long enough to crawl into the same bedroll as him (Malik had specifically brought a larger than normal one this trip in case of this very reason) and Altair tucked himself under Malik's arm.

When Malik woke the next evening the sun had already set but Altair was gone. He woke up and saw both he and Desmond were already awake. Altair was standing, facing the afterglow of the sun in his red and orange thobe. Desmond was sitting at the fresh fire warming water for tea. He looked visibly upset and upon closer inspection Malik saw he was shaking.

Malik climbed out of his bedroll and went over to the young man. “Hey, everything alright?” he asked.

That made Desmond jump. “Huh?”

“You look upset. Are you okay?”

Desmond looked at him, then at Altair who was further away from them, back facing them. His silhouette cast a long shadow across their camp. Desmond leaned over to him to tell him softly, “He's mean, you know.”

Malik scowled. “What did he say?”

“Why the paladins fell out,” Desmond said. “They… they had too much hubris and thought they were too close to the gods. And they didn't fall out of favor. They just killed each other out of vanity.” He cast his eyes down. What a thing to hear about people who were looked up to as heroes. Especially Desmond who had such hero worship for his provinces paladin, Rami. “He said I should remember that before I go around pretending.”

“He did now?” Malik asked him, angry. He couldn't believe Altair! Desmond, like most people, loved Altair, despite what he'd had Malik do to their country. Despite the last Eagle War Altair was still the most worshiped, the god who received the most gifts, the one who was most loved. And he'd just said such horrible things to a boy who loved him.

Malik got up, patting Desmond on the knee as he went. He went over to Altair and grabbed his hand. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly. “It's a lovely sunset.”

“It is,” Altair said and looked at him. “You are more so.”

Malik wasn't going to let him get away with being cute after being an asshole. He did appreciate the cuteness though. “Yes, I am. Will you walk with me?”

“Of course,” Altair said. They walked towards where the sun had set. 

Malik didn't say anything until they were well out of Desmond’s earshot. Then he stopped and turned Altair to face him. “What is the matter with you?” he demanded.

“What?” Altair seemed genuinely surprised.

“Why did you say those things to Desmond? You didn't _have_ to be cruel to him.”

“I just told him the truth of things-

“Don't you know it is always a bad idea to tell mortals the truth of things?” Malik asked him harshly. Like when he’d told Desmond about why he’d destroyed the compass cities. Altair tried to pull his hand out of Malik's grip but Malik wouldn't let him. “Desmond is one of yours,” he went on. “He loves you Altair, you are his star. More so than Tseen Foo.”

“He acts like something he isn't,” Altair growled back.

“He's a _boy,_ Altair. A boy traveling with a god and his priest like something out of old stories told in Alshain and Aquilae.” He tugged on Altair's hand roughly when Altair looked away, trying to get out of the blame. “Desmond has _never_ called himself a paladin. Only everyone else has. He knows he isn't one. This is an adventure to him. You need not be so cruel to tell him how his heroes died or make yourself look like such a villain.”

“Even when I am?”

That made Malik angry. “You are not! You are the head god of Eagle. You are the furthest thing from the villain. You don't need to act like you are!”

“Why do you care so much, Malik? He's a stranger.”

Malik looked at Altair, shocked he’d say such a thing. His shock gave way to hopelessness. “Because that's what made you chose me in the first place. Because I cared for a stranger who fell out of the sky without any clothes and didn't even know his name. You chose me because I show compassion even to those I do not know.” He released Altair's hand. “If you speak like this than it is _you_ who is a stranger to me, Altair, not Desmond.” He walked away from Altair and Altair did not follow him. His chest hurt, heart feeling heavy. When had Altair become so horrible and neglectful of everyone? He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as Tarazed’s warning echoed in his mind. Something was wrong with him. And just what was Malik supposed to do about it?

—

They arrived at Desmond's home town just before sunrise. A few of the fisherman, always early risers, saw them first and rushed over. They spoke to Desmond with wonder and pride and told him his father was angry and worried he'd left. Malik figured as much would be true.

The smithy was on the other side of the town and had a water wheel attached in order to work the great billows without too much labor. Along the way they were stopped seemingly every ten feet by someone of the town. It was like they knew Desmond had come home and they had all heard the rumors of a so called paladin. A paladin come again, and from their town no less! They were very excited and eager to ask Desmond about where he'd been and what he'd been doing. It usually took a minute or so for them to look past Desmond's mirrored breast plate to Malik standing just behind him in his lacquered armor, ochre cape over one shoulder. And then their eyes would travel to Altair standing next to him dressed splendidly in clothes Tseen Foo lumberjacks wore of reds and greens and heavy boots with spikes in the toe to help them climb the great conifers of the North West, the clothes more finely made than any they’d seen before. They usually stopped their talk then and humbly moved along, eyes down and bowed respectfully to Altair and his priest. It still took them well past sunrise to make it across the small town. Malik quite enjoyed himself and Desmond just humbly tried to explain that he wasn't a paladin and there wasn't need for this sort of fuss. It didn't help.

Finally they arrived at the smithy. Malik could tell Altair was annoyed he was being kept up so late but Malik saw he was also staying on purpose to prove Malik wrong about what he'd said the other night. Malik appreciated his stubbornness.

Desmond pulled a set of well made keys out of his bag and unlocked the building. “I don't know if you want to come in-

“Yes, of course. So I can tell your father what a fine young man he has,” Malik said. Desmond smiled uneasily. He opened the door to the shop.

“He's probably still asleep. He never wakes up early anymore,” Desmond said and went behind the counter. Altair walked around the shop, looking at everything and admiring the work, as if to assure himself that it was good that he'd selected Desmond's family to make that evil sword. Desmond took off some of his armor and set it on the counter. “Uhm… I could get us some tea while we wait for him to wake up if you wanted.”

“I think that would be a fine idea. And Altair can nap,” he smirked when Altair gave him a dirty look.

“Alright I'll go start some you can come through the back-

The door opened. “What's all this racket? Can't you see we ain't open?” Desmond father, William, asked. Malik could tell he was very hung over; maybe even still drunk from the night before. He hardly noticed Malik and Altair and just saw Desmond. “You! You got a lot of nerve coming back here you little thief,” he snarled at Desmond. Malik's hand drifted to down to his dagger at his waist. “Leave without warning, took the priest sword and the armor. Look at cha. Pretending like always. Get inside. Now.”

“Dad I was-

“You back talking me?” William practically yelled.

“No, dad, I was just-

“In the house. Now. I'll deal with you in private. And you,” he waved a drunken finger at both Malik and Altair accusingly. “Get off my property before I call the guard. We ain't open!”

The door slammed shut once Desmond had passed over the threshold. Malik looked at Altair who looked back. “Charming,” Malik said. Altair scoffed.

They waited a minute, just to see if Desmond would tell his father they were there and the door would be opened with an apology. Instead they heard William yelling at Desmond. What exactly was lost through the wall and distance but the intent was clear. William was furious and sounded violent. Malik looked at Altair and he was staring at the door and his eyes slowly turned searing yellow white in anger. Malik took his hand off his dagger. This would be interesting. Malik was looking forward to it honestly.

Altair went over to the door. It was locked but Altair just blew it open with a bit of magic and it crashed against the opposite side of the wall. Malik followed after him and it wasn’t hard to find the father and son. William was not a small man, even taller than Desmond and twice as wide thanks to working in the smithy his entire life. He had Desmond in a painful looking headlock while he yelled at him. He stopped when he saw Altair. “I told you to get out. You aren’t allowed on my private prop-

Altair had had quite enough of this. Malik folded his arms to enjoy what was going on when Altair used a little magic to lift William up off the ground like Altair had his hand around his throat. Desmond was released and he dropped to his knees, gasping as he could finally breathe normally. Altair’s pretty human form melted away as he walked over to William and was replaced by something vaguely human shaped made of fire and left charred footprints on the wooden floor. “How dare you,” Altair’s voice sounded like a roaring fire. “How _dare_ you speak to **my** paladin like this. How dare you lay your filthy mortal hands on the boy who made my priest’s sword when you and your father failed for fifty years. You must think very highly of yourself when you and your father failed me so much when I blessed you with the privilege to forge a legendary weapon. Then to treat the boy who did what you could not as you do. How _dare_ you have so much hubris. I should burn out your eyes for this. I should turn you to char for your failure. I should leave you for sky burial in Tso Ke.

Malik went over to Desmond and helped him up while Altair lectured his father. Desmond stared, wide eyed at Altair’s fiery star form. Altair looked over at the both of them. “Are you alright, Desmond?” he asked him.

“Ah— yes, you’re holiness,” Desmond stammered. “He didn’t harm me.”

Altair’s white eyes narrowed and he looked back up at William who was struggling against an invisible hand around his throat that was burning the shape of fingers into his flesh like a brand. He dropped William and the big man crashed onto the ground, gasping and crying from the pain of having the skin of his throat burned and charred. “You don’t deserve the things you’ve been given in blessing. May you forever have misfortune knowing you pissed off Altair of Eagle you pathetic, mortal, waste,” Altair said. Then he looked at Malik and that was all the acknowledgement Malik needed. He pushed Desmond away from the man towards where the bedrooms were.

“Malik-

“Get the rest of your things,” Malik said.

“What? I thought Altair didn’t like me?”

“He’s a fickle thing. Now go along. We’ll be going back to Altair now.”

Desmond was in shock but did obey. Malik looked back at Altair where he was standing over William who was moaning in pain of his burned throat. He was still in his flame form, crackling gentle in the still air. Desmond didn’t have a lot and came back with a bag. He was staring at the image of Altair standing over his father and Malik had to push him along to the exit. Malik picked up Desmond’s other bag, shoving the gauntlets into it so he could keep Desmond moving out. Altair followed eventually.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Malik asked in his native tongue so Desmond couldn’t understand them.

“No,” Altair said in the same tongue, layered with the sound of flame. “Not that I did not consider it for how he disgusts me.”

Desmond was very much lost and confused and didn’t know what was going on. “What?” he asked.

“Let’s find somewhere to spend the day,” Malik said in a way Desmond could understand. “I’m tired.”

“Are we really going back to Altair?” Desmond asked.

“Yes,” Malik said. “I’m sure the clerics will be thrilled.” Desmond looked very concerned. Malik just acted like nothing had happened. As far as he was concerned Desmond was an orphan like so many orphans Malik had made fifty years ago. Malik had made many friends with orphans and personally helped build orphanages in places after he’d ruined the cities so there would be a slightly lesser amount of unhappiness in the world after he’d burned it to the ground. “Now where is a good place to stay in this town, Desmond? An inn?”

“Y-yes. There’s an inn,” Desmond said.

“Well lead the way,” Malik motioned. Desmond nodded mutely and walked off, still stupefied. Malik looked at Altair who was still all fire. “I’m glad you’re not really a stranger, Altair,” he told him and leaned over, kissing his flaming lips. They didn’t burn Malik. During it Altair shed his fiery form for one of flesh and blood. He smiled at Altair held his hand before following after Desmond to where they could get some food and shut eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it please consider leaving a review. Even if it's just screaming (actually those are the best). I appreciate all of them and let me know you appreciate me too.
> 
> ALSO you should def visit my [writing blog](http://shotgunsandstars.tumblr.com) for previews, whining, and other gay shit.


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